


Morality

by Only_theangel



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bank Robbery, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Character Death, Chronic Illness, Crime, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Crimes & Criminals, Cute Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Dark Past, Endgame Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, FBI Agent Harry Styles, FBI Agent Louis Tomlinson, Fake Marriage, Flashbacks, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Guilt, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry Styles Loves Louis Tomlinson, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Heist, Hiding, Liam Payne - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, Louis Tomlinson Loves Harry Styles, Love/Hate, M/M, Major Illness, Minor Character Death, Money, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Niall Horan - Freeform, On the Run, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Partners in Crime, Prostitution, Running Away, Secrets, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Smut, Survivor Guilt, Suspense, Terminal Illnesses, Thriller, Top Harry Styles, Tragedy, Truth, Unsub | Unknown Subject, Violence, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, Zayn Malik - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29867736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Only_theangel/pseuds/Only_theangel
Summary: Harry Styles has been an FBI agent almost as long as Louis has, so why does Harry get the feeling that Louis doesn't trust him? And why does Louis get the feeling that he can't trust Harry?Well, that's because he can't.Harry might be working for the FBI, but that doesn't mean he has to play by their rules.|Or, an au where the boys all work for the FBI in Washington, D.C., who work together to uncover an inside job|TRAILER FOR FIC: https://youtu.be/eOysVavB608
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 29
Kudos: 32





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the new fic! I hope you all enjoyed my last fic and I hope you love this one even more. This one is a bit out of my comfort zone simply because I don't write a lot of dark things, but I've really wanted to do this! As always, feel free to comment or even dm me on twitter. 
> 
> Make sure to listen to the songs I linked in the chapters!

Prologue

[(x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE8EhJ9gS28))

The cold air in the supposedly empty house has nothing to do with the chills on Louis’s arms, it has nothing to do with the way Louis is holding his breath, as if he’s scared he’d see it in front of him.

No, it has nothing to do with that.

It has everything to do with the fact that there’s blood on Louis’s carpet, leading from the open door, down the hallway, and into the guest bathroom.

Louis slowly moves to his right, keeping his eyes on the closed bathroom door. He steadies his breath, his fingers digging into the drawer handle, barely pulling the drawer open. As soon as it opens, he wraps his slender fingers around the barrel of his gun, mentally cursing himself for not having one strapped on his body right now.

Louis straightens his arms out in front of his body, gently placing one foot in front of the other, feeling as his feet sink into the stained carpet.

His brain struggles to focus on the task at hand, instead, wandering to the guests in his house.

Where are they? Have they been hurt?

6 months ago, this would’ve never been a problem. Louis would’ve had no problem focusing on his task, he wouldn’t have had any guests to worry about.

But 6 months, a lot of things were different.

Louis lightly shakes his head, trying to get himself to focus. Slowly, he makes his way to the bathroom, his back against the wall. He takes one last deep breath, preparing himself for whatever is on the other side of the door.

He can’t hear anything, except for heavy breathing.

He’s not sure if it’s his or the attackers.

Louis reaches his hand out, resting it on the cold handle of the bathroom door. He tightens his grip on the gun, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Louis is pushing the door in, aiming his gun at the figure in front of him.

He can’t see much, the assailant's back is to him, but he can see everything he needs to see.

Without hesitation, Louis lowers his gun, his heart racing from the adrenaline, trying to make sense of it all.

It can’t be, there’s no way that’s who he thinks it is.

But deep down, he knows there’s no mistaking those brown curls, that broad back, and those god-given thighs.

There’s no way he could mistake this man for anyone else, not when he’s been dreaming about him every night for 6 months, not when he’s dedicated most of his life recently to this man.

Louis takes a step back, trying to find the words to say. No matter what is running through Louis’s head, his brain refuses to work with his mouth to form any actual words.

The man turns around, clutching his stomach. His hair is sticking to his forehead, his hand is covered in blood, his other hand clutching a duffel bag.

Louis’s eyes focus on the duffel bag, inhaling a sharp breath when he sees stacks of money covered in blood.

Louis doesn’t have to stare long to know how much is in the bag, he knows it’s at least 50 grand. Anyone untrained in the business would assume it was closer to 100 grand, but Louis knows better than that.

It’s the sound of the man stepping closer to Louis that finally brings him back to reality, the reality where a man is bleeding out in his bathroom after a successful night of thievery.

Louis lifts his head, meeting the green eyes of the assailant.

“I can explain,” Harry rasps out, wincing in pain.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

[(x)](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1368060896468209665?s=20)

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKtsdZs9LJo))

“Agent Styles, are you listening?” SSA Hale asks, shuffling the documents in his hands. The room suddenly goes silent, which is quite unusual. Normally in this room, you can barely hear yourself think over the coffee machines running, the papers being shuffled, the clicking of the remote, and the murmurs of the team.

Harry has a hard time concentrating, even without the hustle and bustle of the team.

Harry sits up in his chair, his cuticles red and raw from being picked at during the first half of the meeting. He knows it’s a bad habit, but it’s better than biting them, right?

Harry clears his throat, his eyes focusing on his supervisor. “Yes, I was,” Harry answers, hoping it’s enough to convince SSA Hale to direct his attention elsewhere.

Because the truth is, Harry wasn’t listening. Not in the slightest.

But he can’t help it, he has other things that require his attention.

SSA Hale frowns disapprovingly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “If you were listening, why don’t you inform me of what case we’re discussing?”

Harry mentally curses himself, wanting nothing more than to slink out of his chair until he’s touching the floor, scooting out of the room.

He hates being called out, especially when he actually wasn’t listening.

Harry glances over at the screen, his eyes scanning the Powerpoint that’s being displayed to the team. They’re in the middle of their morning meeting, meaning they’re being briefed on today’s case.

Harry’s eyes catch a glimpse of the words on the screen, allowing him to form some sort of idea of what today’s case is about.

“It’s the same case we’ve been trying to solve for years. Guy breaks in, steals a couple of valuables, leaves a note in the house, leaves before anyone knows he was there,” Harry explains, shifting in his seat.

He hates this case.

SSA Hale’s shoulders drop, honestly surprised that Harry was able to bullshit his way through the question.

“I’m sorry, remind me again why we’ve spent 2 years studying a case that doesn’t even involve anyone being murdered? I thought we were the FBI, not some low-life cop in the middle of BFE,” Louis remarks, flipping the pen around between his two fingers.

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead, finding himself silently thanking Louis. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to stand Louis’s snide remarks, but right now, he’s thankful.

He hates this case and he doesn’t want to spend another second thinking about it.

“That would be because Director Wray suspects it’s an inside job,” Liam informs the team, barely glancing up from his PC.

Liam works in the IT department for the FBI, tracking and analyzing any online presence a suspect might have. He’s the best in the department, which is why the team makes sure to always have him on their cases.

Harry’s eyebrows furrow as he leans forward, his elbows landing on the tabletop. He’s been studying this case just as long as anyone at the table has, so why is he just now finding out about this?

“An inside job?” Harry asks, his voice thick with confusion.

“Like, you think the families are staging a break-in and selling their own valuables?” Louis asks, seemingly just as confused as Harry is.

Liam shakes his head, sharing his PC screen on the larger screen at the front of the room. He clicks through multiple screens until he has several pictures of the notes lined up next to each other.

  
“You see how the wording is? It’s formal, almost too formal,” Niall speaks up, his eyes trained on the screen.

Niall is the linguistic agent on their team, meaning he studies the victim’s and the suspect’s language, using that to help solve the case.

“The unsub uses words that we use, they’re not common phrases the general public would use, much less a criminal,” Niall explains, turning to face Harry.

Harry raises an eyebrow, sitting back in his chair. “So you think someone that works in law enforcement is doing it?” He asks.

The room falls silent, once again. The only sound in the room is the sound of Louis clicking the end of his pen, over and over again.

“That’s how it’s looking,” Zayn speaks up, standing up from his chair. He makes his way over to the coffee pot, pouring himself a warm cup of coffee.

The whole team runs on coffee, especially when they have a case that requires all-nighters. Harry was never a coffee-drinking person until he joined the FBI, which was 2 years ago. He was only 23 then, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He also had no idea he’d meet his greatest enemy on his team.

Well— not greatest enemy, that’s a bit harsh.

But it’s pretty damn close to how he feels about Louis Tomlinson.

Louis Tomlinson thinks he knows everything. He thinks he runs the team just because he’s been here the longest. He’s been here for 4 years, meaning he’s got about 2 years on everyone on the team.

Louis constantly interrupts SSA Hale when he’s presenting a new case, he always thinks he’s got the case figured out before he actually does, and he’s always clicking that damn pen.

Click, click, click, cli—

“Can you not?” Harry snaps, turning his head to face a smug Louis.

Louis lifts his thumb, along with his eyebrow. “Can I not what?” Louis asks, feigning complete innocence.

Harry rolls his eyes, quietly tapping his foot under the table. He doesn’t have time to deal with this. He only has 20 minutes before he leaves for the appointment, he should be at his desk working on the case by now.

But here he is, spending his precious time arguing with Louis.

“You know what, smart-ass. Stop. Clicking. The pen.” Harry says, carefully enunciating every word to make sure Louis gets his point.

The corners of Louis’s mouth turn up, the annoyance in Harry’s voice spurring him on. Normally, he wouldn’t even bother messing with Harry. He doesn’t see the point in wasting his time associating with a low-life like Harry Styles, but today, he feels extra spunky.

He doesn’t think it’s fair at all that he works his ass off 24/7 just so Harry can get the same benefits and rewards that he gets. Harry barely even shows up for the morning meetings, he’s late almost every single day. He leaves work in the middle of the day, sometimes not returning for the rest of the day.

And he doesn’t even bother socializing with the team outside of work. The other boys go out together on the weekends or even pile up together at Louis’s house, ordering pizza and drinking beer until their heart’s content.

Louis doesn’t know what Harry’s problem is, but he reckons he thinks he’s better than everyone else.

“Or what, Agent Styles?” Louis quips, his eyebrow still raised.

Harry rolls his eyes at Louis’s condescending tone, exhaling a long breath to attempt to calm himself down.

When Louis doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he lowers his thumb, sending the inside of the pen shooting out, making that annoying clicking sound that Harry’s had enough of.

Before anyone can process what just happened, Harry is on his feet, flying to the other side of the table. His hand shoots out to grab Louis’s dress shirt in his fist, pulling Louis’s back off of the back of his seat.

“Or I’ll shove that pen so far up your ass you’ll be shitting out ink for days,” Harry snarls, feeling hands trying to pull at his shirt.

He knows Zayn and Liam are trying to get him away from Louis, but he doesn’t care.

He has enough to deal with without having Louis annoy him just for the hell of it.

Harry can deal with a lot of things, but Louis Tomlinson is not one of them.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRoWZPn2EEc))

“Agent Styles, step away from Agent Tomlinson!” SSA Hale barks, his voice stern and authoritative. Louis keeps his smug smile on his face, not feeling threatened at all by what’s going on. Harry Styles does not scare him.

Not in the slightest.

Harry Styles might have everyone else fooled, but Louis knows that deep down, Harry is just as miserable and pathetic as any other cocky, entitled bully is.

Finally, Zayn and Liam are able to pull Harry off of Louis, leaving Louis’s shirt wrinkled from the altercation.

Immediately, Louis turns to SSA Hale, looking forward to seeing what punishment Harry is going to get for assaulting another agent. Maybe he’ll be assigned to desk work for the next week, but then again, Harry might like that.

He is quite lazy.

SSA Hale sighs, rearranging his documents in his folder, not saying a word.

“Seriously? You’re not going to say anything to him?” Louis asks, his voice high and squeaky. He hates when his voice does this, it makes him sound like a child.

SSA Hale glances up at Louis for a split second, his eyes finally landing on Harry, who’s standing between Zayn and Liam, his chest heaving with every breath.

He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he couldn’t help it! Louis just has a way of getting under his skin. He’s never met anyone that can bother him the way Louis does.

It must be a special talent.

“Mind your business, Agent Tomlinson,” SSA Hale mutters, dropping his eyes back to the papers.

Louis’s jaw drops, his cheeks reddening with anger. “I am minding my business! He assaulted me, he should be punished!” Louis argues, his annoyance growing by the second.

If Louis had been the one to assault Harry, he would’ve surely gotten a punishment, no matter how minor.

But no, Harry isn’t going to be punished.

Because SSA Hale isn’t afraid to play favorites, even when everyone in the room can see it. You would think the supervisor of a team wouldn’t play favorites, especially not so obviously, but Harry is definitely the favorite.

“Oh, please. I barely touched you. I would’ve done more if we weren’t at work,” Harry threatens, feeling as Zayn’s grip tightens on his forearm.

Harry attempts to jerk his arm away, but he forgets how strong Zayn is. For a profiler, Zayn is pretty jacked.

Niall chuckles under his breath, causing Louis to roll his eyes.

“Alright team, you know the drill. I’ll be in my office, let me know if you find anything,” SSA Hale announces, giving the team a stern nod. He tucks his folder to his chest, pushing past the team and going to his office.

It’s only then when Zayn and Liam let go of Harry, warning him to watch himself. Harry shakes it off, not wanting to waste any more time fighting with Louis.

He only has 15 minutes to get started on this case before he has to leave, it’ll be the only time he’ll get to work on this case for the rest of the day. He’ll be so busy once he leaves, he won’t even have time to think about this case.

The team breaks up, each one going to their desks. Liam spends his time trying to find an online presence for the unsub (he’s had absolutely no luck for the past two years), Niall continues to study the various notes left at the scene, Zayn and Louis review the files cumulated over the years, and Harry stares at his closed folder.

He really should be working with Louis and Zayn, they’re all profilers, after all, but he prefers to work alone.

Especially on this case.

Louis tears his eyes away from the documents, watching as Harry runs his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore his stomach tightening at the way Harry’s fingers flex.

“You should really be nicer to him, you know?” Zayn asks, his eyes never looking up from the papers.

Louis furrows his eyebrows for what seems like the millionth time this morning. “Nicer? He should be nicer to me!” Louis says, his voice hushed.

Zayn laughs quietly, shaking his head. Louis watches him flip through the papers, wondering how he can read that fast. “You’re not exactly the easiest person to deal with, Lou.”

Louis scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, and like he’s such a rose to deal with,” He mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I never said that. Just said you might want to reconsider how you treat him,” Zayn repeats, moving on to the next file.

Louis glances back over at Harry, watching him as he stands up. He gathers his keys, his lanyard with his FBI ID on it, his phone, and his sunglasses.

Keys, lanyard, phone, sunglasses.

That’s all Louis ever sees Harry carry.

What grown man doesn’t carry a wallet? And shouldn’t he have a briefcase? Everyone else on the team carries one, why is he the exception?

Louis continues watching as Harry walks into SSA Hale’s office, poking his head in and giving him a thumb’s up.

Harry turns and walks out of the building, leaving Louis alone to get through the rest of the day without annoying Harry.

“Mate, I know he looks good, but the way you’re staring is getting kind of creepy,” Niall says, finally looking up from the notes.

Liam is the first to laugh, leaving Louis scowling. “There are so many things wrong with that sentence,” He says, pulling several folders away from Zayn.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Liam asks, focusing his attention on Louis.

Suddenly, no one is focused on the case anymore.

“First of all, he does not _look_ good. Second of all, the only thing creepy is the way he has every single one of you fooled into thinking he’s a good person,” Louis answers, running his finger underneath the first line in the folder.

Niall snorts, causing Louis to roll his eyes.

He loves his team, he does. But they can be kind of ridiculous when it comes to things like this.

Why can’t they just focus on the case? Why does everyone have to talk about Harry all the time?

Liam suddenly disengages himself from the conversation, directing his attention back to the screen in front of him.

The rest of the day is silent, except for Niall’s quiet snickers every time he thinks about Harry damn near killing Louis this morning, the sound of Zayn slurping his coffee next to Louis, and the sound of Liam’s fingers clacking on the keyboard.

At the end of the day, they’re not any closer to solving the case than they were 2 years ago when the case was first presented to them.

Whoever the unsub is, they’re incredibly smart. The longer Louis studies the case, the more he can see why SSA Hale thinks they’re involved with law enforcement. They don’t leave any fingerprints, they switch up their handwriting every note, and they leave no trace of the valuables they sell.

Tomorrow will consist of the team going out into the field to interview the latest victims, but for now, the team is spending the rest of their night relaxing in one of the local bars in D.C.

They can’t get too hammered, nobody wants to show up to work hungover, but they can drink enough to allow themselves to relax, which is all they really need.

Louis pulls his glass closer to him, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip of his now lukewarm beer. He hadn’t realized he’d zoned out for most of the conversation, but apparently, he had. The last thing he remembers is ordering the beer, he doesn’t even remember the bartender sitting it down in front of him.

Louis tunes into the conversation between Niall and Liam, listening as they argue about which sport is best: golf or boxing.

Both are shit, in Louis’s opinion. He’d rather watch soccer than either sport, but then again, he wasn’t asked.

“You’re telling me you enjoy watching people get the shit beat out of them? You ever think about taking advantage of the free counseling the FBI offers?” Niall asks, his accent thicker because of his alcohol intake.

Liam laughs, shaking his head. “And you’re telling me you want to watch 4 hours of absolutely nothing? Nothing ever happens in a golf game!” He defends, his words slightly slurred together.

Niall leans forward, craning his neck to see Louis. “What about you, Tommo? Golf or boxing?” Niall asks.

Louis shrugs his shoulders, swallowing his last sip of his beer. “Neither. Soccer is the way to go,” He answers.

Niall groans, throwing his head back. “Don’t even get me started on soccer. How is it a sport if you can’t even use your hands?”

Liam leans closer to Zayn, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Golf or boxing?”

“They’re both shit,” Zayn answers, standing up from his barstool. He gathers his keys and his phone in his hands, shooting a quick smile in Louis’s direction. “Make sure these two get home safe, yeah?”

Louis gives him a thumb’s up, making a silent promise. This is nothing new, Louis is used to having to drive Liam and Niall back to their places after a night out. Louis and Zayn never get too drunk, unless it’s on the weekends.

Louis stands up, pulling a 5 dollar bill out of his wallet and placing it on the bar for a tip. “Alright, boys. Let’s get you in bed,”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter // Panic attacks , throwing up , cancer

Chapter 2 

[(x)](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1368214749813514246?s=20)

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2o0QPfgRkks))

“Alright, I’ll be home soon. Call me if you need anything,” Harry calls out, gathering his keys in his hands. He stands at the door for a split second, waiting to get some kind of response— any response.

But the response never comes.

Harry sighs, running his fingers through his hair. His hair is still damp from his early morning shower, the smell of vanilla still stuck to his skin. The water droplets clinging to his back almost make his skin crawl, but he doesn’t have time to go back and dry off any more.

Harry’s just thankful that today is a plain-clothes day, meaning they don’t have to wear their button-ups or suits.

He has no idea who came up with the concept of plain-clothes days, but he’s not complaining. For at least two days out of the week when they’re working on a new case, the team spends their days interviewing the victims, meaning they don’t wear their formal clothes.

Leave it up to profilers to come up with the assumption that formal clothes often intimidate the victims, making it harder for them to open up to the team.

Plain-clothes are supposed to make it seem like they’re talking to a friend instead of a federal agent.

Harry props his sunglasses on the top of his head, shutting the door behind him. He watches as Liam’s Range Rover pulls into his driveway, his feet bringing him closer before he can honk the horn.

After the appointment yesterday, Harry’s car broke down, meaning he’ll have to rely on the team to get him to and from cases until he can save up enough money to fix his car up.

Harry reckons it’s the head gasket giving him issues, which means not only does he have to pay for the parts to repair the head gasket, he also has to pay someone to do it for him.

If it were any other problem (brakes, a sputtering engine, a leaky radiator, etc.), he’d be able to fix it himself. But a blown head gasket is one of the most expensive car issues, taking the most time to repair.

Honestly, Harry should’ve known his 2005 Honda Civic wouldn’t last him much longer, but it’s not like he can exactly afford to get anything better.

Harry opens the door, crawling into the SUV. “Good morning,” Liam chirps, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

Harry doesn’t understand how someone can be so happy at 7 am, but he tries his best to play along with it. He leans back in his seat, stretching his legs out as best he can.

“Mornin’,” Harry grumbles, watching Liam as he backs out of the driveway. An awkward silence falls over the car, leaving the pair scrambling to come up with a conversation starter.

Harry likes Liam, he does, he’s just not exactly close to him. That isn’t Liam’s fault, of course. Liam tries to invite Harry out, he tries to get to know him better (even though he’s the only one that truly knows anything about Harry), but Harry is a tough nut to crack.

“How is she?” Liam asks, his eyes glancing over to both side mirrors. He pulls out into the road, taking a left to meet the team.

Instead of meeting at the headquarters today, they’re going to meet at a small diner in the middle of D.C. to make sure everyone is on the same page before they start interviewing the latest victims.

Harry allows his sunglasses to drop over his forehead, propping themselves on the ridge of his nose. The sun is barely up, but his head is still pounding from last night’s adventures, so he doesn’t want to take any chances when the sun decides to shine in its full glory.

After the appointment and his car basically blowing up, Harry decided it was time for a drink. He doesn’t drink as often as you think someone in his position would, but last night, things got out of hand.

He couldn’t help it. One drink didn’t do anything for him, so he took another, and another, and another… Until the last thing he remembers is crawling to the bathroom, falling asleep on the tiled floor.

He woke up there this morning with a raging headache and what he can only guess was dried throw-up on the corners of his mouth, but he managed to get cleaned up enough to at least look presentable for today’s tasks.

“Erm, she could be better,” Harry answers, his voice trailing off. He looks out of the window, squinting his eyes when the glare of the sun pierces his sunglasses.

He isn’t sure how he feels about Liam asking questions, but he reckons he doesn’t have any choice but to answer them. Liam means no harm, Harry knows that.

But still, Harry doesn’t want anyone to know how bad it truly is. 

“Yeah?” Liam asks, turning his head to face Harry. Harry doesn’t have to turn to look at Liam to know he’s got that stupid, pitying look on his face, he can tell just by his tone.

It’s the same look everyone had when it first happened, it’s the same look everyone gave the children at the funeral, and it’s the same look that causes Harry to hold it all inside.

He hates that look.

Harry clears his throat, shifting in his seat. Suddenly, his flowy shirt is too tight on his body, his chest is too restricted, his head is too fuzzy.

Harry tries his best to distract himself, but he can only focus on how his limbs are going numb, leaving his brain scrambling for oxygen.

He takes a deep breath, digging his fingers into the leather of the seat, just needing something to ground him. “Y-Yeah, she’s not… Doing great,” Harry manages to rasp out, his throat dry despite the pool of saliva in his mouth.

Liam furrows his eyebrows, watching as his teammate struggles to breathe. “And you? How are you?”

That is a loaded question.

And it’s one that Harry can’t answer, not honestly. Guilt is still building up in his chest from what he did last night, but he can’t talk about that.

No one can know about last night or any of the nights before that.

“Pull over,” Harry demands, already shooting his right arm over his body to unlock the seatbelt.

“What? We’re almost the—“

“Pull. Over.” Harry repeats, his hand fumbling for the door handle. He has to get out of this car, at least just for a second. He has to get some fresh air, he has to get the guilt out of him.

Without another moment of hesitation, Liam pulls over on the side of the road, watching as cars fly past him. Before the car can even fully come to a stop, Harry is stumbling out, his hands climbing up, up, until they unbutton the top button of his shirt.

He can’t have this stupid, tight shirt on right now.

As soon as the first two buttons are undone, Harry is doubling over, emptying the contents of his stomach.

Not only is he ridding his body of the alcohol and pizza he consumed last night, he’s ridding his body of everything that happened last night. Maybe if he throws up enough, he’ll be clean.

Maybe he won’t be guilty anymore.

Liam puts the car in park, ripping his seatbelt off of him, going around the car to meet Harry. He places a supportive hand on his back, grimacing as he listens to Harry.

Once Harry is done and he’s caught his breath, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his hands shaking as he buttons his shirt back up.

Liam doesn’t say anything, he just makes his way back to the car.

Harry appreciates that, he doesn’t feel like explaining.

After a silent car ride, the Range Rover pulls into the diner, parking next to Louis’s 2018 Audi SQ5. Harry scoffs under his breath, stepping out of the car.

Of course, Louis drives an Audi.

Why wouldn’t he?

Louis looks up from his menu, watching as Harry and Liam walk in together. From the first glance, it’s obvious that Harry is hungover.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lOE9GV096E))

Louis scoffs, shaking his head. “You know, I truly thought Styles’s wasn’t a partier and that’s why he never went out with us,” Louis announces, his eyes darting between Niall and Zayn.

Zayn barely acknowledges the statement, while Niall shrugs. “Who says he is?”

“You’re going to look at him right now and tell me that he didn’t get so drunk last night that he probably pissed on himself?” Louis asks, listening as the bell rings on the door.

This catches Zayn’s attention, causing him to watch the pair walk in. “Why does it matter if he parties?” He asks.

Louis looks back down at his menu, his mouth practically watering at the French toast displayed on the plastic menu. “Because if he parties, that means he just doesn’t want to party with us. You don’t think that’s weird? We’ve all been working together for 2 or 3 years, he’s never gone out with us. Not once,”

Niall shrugs again, too immersed in his food options to care about what’s going on.

Liam takes his place next to Louis, Harry taking his place next to Niall. “Rough night last night?” Louis asks, his eyes flickering down to the menu.

Harry’s taken his sunglasses off, showing off his red eyes. Louis can see his hands shaking in his lap, but it doesn’t raise too much concern.

“Not as rough as the night you’re gonna have when I can finally get my hands on you,” Harry mutters, reaching across the table to grab a menu.

Louis’s jaw drops, his cheeks heating up. He knows Harry is thinking more along the lines of when he can finally beat Louis’s ass for all the hell he’s put him through, but Louis can’t help the way his pants tighten at the sentence.

“We need to order. We have to be at the Smith’s in 45 minutes,” Zayn informs the team, placing his menu down on the table.

“Can I get a rundown of the latest victims?” Harry asks, clearing his throat.

The bile is still prominent on his tongue, making him wish the waitress would come around and bring him water to wash it down with.

Louis raises an eyebrow, fighting the urge to say something along the lines of ‘Well, maybe if you hadn’t left 15 minutes into the work-day, you wouldn’t need a run-down,’.

It’s a hard battle, but Louis’s brain wins over his tongue.

“Right. The Smiths live within a mile of the previous victims, meaning the unsub is getting lazy. Two years ago, he’d never strike within the same cul-de-sac, but it seems like he’s getting desperate for money,” Zayn explains.

Harry nods, fumbling with his hands under the table.

“The Smith’s are in their late 30’s, they have one child. Her name is Laura, she’s 14.” Zayn continues.

Niall places his menu on the table, shaking his head. “Get this. The daughter has cancer. The unsub took money from their safe, about $5,000. They’d been saving that money up to pay for her treatments,” He explains.

Harry damn near chokes on his own saliva. “C-Cancer? She was sick?” He asks, feeling as his heart hammers against his chest.

He can’t believe it.

“Yeah. Luckily, the town raised double the money and gave it to them, but otherwise, they’d have been fucked.” Liam murmurs.

Harry tries to steady his breath, he can’t afford to have another panic attack this morning. He barely made it through the first one.

“Hey, guys…” Louis interrupts, flashing his screen to the table. He had been half-listening to the conversation when he felt his phone go off.

“We have another case. Looks like the bastard struck again last night, 20 miles from the Smith’s.”

Zayn curses under his breath, scooting his chair back. “Looks like we don’t have time for breakfast. Let’s split up. Liam, you come with me. We’ll go to the newest crime scene, you can go through their computers to see if they’ve been to the same websites any of the other victims have been to.” He orders.

“Niall, you come with me and Liam. We’re gonna need you to go over the note and study the victim’s language,”

He turns to face Harry and Louis, his eyes darting between them. “And can I trust you two to be on your best behavior while you interview the Smiths?” He asks.

Louis bunches his nose up, furrowing his eyebrows. He doesn’t want to work on a case with Harry, especially not alone. Why can’t Zayn come with him?

“Oh, I was thinking I could go to the newest crime scene?” Harry asks, standing up.

He doesn’t think he can handle seeing the sick daughter and the grieving parents.

The rest of the boys stand up, gathering their belongings. “No, I need you with Louis on this,” Zayn says, his voice stern.

Even though Louis’s been on the team the longest, Zayn is a natural leader, so SSA Hale leaves him in charge when he can’t accompany the team on a case.

Harry sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Maybe he can avoid the family altogether if he just uses his time to study the house.

Louis never keeps his mouth shut, it won’t be a problem for him to talk to the victims.

-

So, turns out Harry can’t completely avoid the family.

As soon as they pulled up, he was bombarded by the family, eager to be heard.

Harry couldn’t help but to notice the young daughter sitting on the couch, her head wrapped with silk. He hated himself for giving her the same pitying look he always gets, but he couldn’t help it.

Now, the family is sitting around the kitchen table, the coffee pot run dry.

“Did you notice anyone driving by your house often? Or even parking in front of your house?” Louis asks, flipping his pen between his fingers.

At least he isn’t clicking it.

“No, not at all. I stay at home with Laura, so I would’ve noticed something like that,” Mrs. Smith answers, her voice frantic.

Louis pities the whole family. They’re already going through such a hard time, they shouldn’t be having to deal with something like this.

It’s been a week since the attack and they still don’t have any answers.

Louis writes her answer down on his notepad, adjusting the recorder so that it’s closer to her. “And did any alarms go off the night of the break-in?”

“We don’t have an alarm system. The cheapest we could find was $35 a month. That doesn’t seem like much, but it is when every penny goes toward Laura’s treatments,” Mr. Smith explains, his voice gentle.

“Why don’t you just off me and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore?” Laura speaks up, rolling her eyes.

“Laura Lee Smith!” Mrs. Smith scolds, her eyes wide.

Harry frowns, leaning forward. He knows what the girl means, she doesn’t want to be a burden to her family.

“Does your insurance not pay for her treatments?” Louis asks, finding himself being nosey. No one in his immediate family has ever had a chronic illness, so he has no idea how expensive the medical bills can get and how little insurance helps.

“Insurance pays some of it, but not all of it. Most people still have to pay an insane amount of money out-of-pocket,” Harry explains, turning to face Louis.

Louis stares blankly at Harry, sensing a hint of sadness in his voice.

It’s strange, Louis isn’t sure that he’s ever seen Harry show any emotion other than anger.

“If we didn’t have insurance, I don’t know what we’d do,” Mrs. Smith mutters, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry quickly swallows the lump in his throat, silently thanking whatever god is above that his phone is going off.

He politely excuses himself, stepping out into the living room. “Hey, is everything alright?” He asks, his voice hushed.

He’s answered by a cough on the other end of the phone. He frowns, turning to look over his shoulder. Louis is still talking to the family, he’s barely noticed that Harry left the room.

When he does notice, he excuses himself as well, making his way over to Harry. “Do you really think this is the time to be taking personal calls?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry bites back an insult, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I have to go, but I’ll be back soon. I promise,” Harry says, reaching for Louis’s keys.

Louis scoffs, shaking his head. “Seriously? Just because you didn’t get your way doesn’t mean you can just ditch me while we’re working on a case,” Louis explains.

Harry sighs, trying to calm himself down. He can’t lose it here, not while there are victims around.

But Louis is making it really hard not to lose it.

“Shit, Louis, I have a responsibility. I told you, I’ll be back.”

“What about your job, huh? What about that responsibility? You know what? Fuck this, I’m going to Hale. Actually, that wouldn’t do any good, would it? Look, I don’t know what you two have got going on, I don’t know if you’re fucking him or what, but seriously, it’s a little—“

Before Louis can finish the sentence, Harry has got Louis pushed against the wall, his breath hot on his face. Louis’s head makes contact with the wall behind him, the pictures rattling above him.

“Go to Hale all you want, I don’t care. Shit, you can even go to director Wray. I don’t care what you do, as long as you never, ever insinuate that I’m fucking SSA Hale again. Alright?” Harry asks, keeping Louis pinned against the wall.

Louis gulps, his eyes wide. He hates that he’s showing fear, but he can’t exactly fight back right now. He’s at a victim’s house, he can’t draw any more attention to them than they already have.

For now, he has to abide by Harry’s rules to get him out of this situation as seamlessly as possible.

“Okay,” Louis squeaks out.

Harry’s eyes search Louis’ for any trace of dishonesty, but when he doesn’t find any, he backs away. He walks out of the house, leaving Louis with the Smiths, with no car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about this fic so far and let me know who you think Harry has at home with him!


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for this chapter // Panic attack , terminal illness

Chapter 3

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1368336908171030533?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IwScvRBQssE))

Harry scrambles into his house, flipping on the lights when he enters the guest bedroom. The room is so hot, Harry can already feel himself starting to sweat. “You can’t just sit in the dark all day,” Harry mutters, making his way over to the bed.

A cough comes from underneath the blanket.

Harry sighs, flipping the blankets back so he can see his sister. Despite her room being close to 75°F, she’s bundled up in one of Harry’s old hoodies, the blanket wrapped tight around her body.

“Emmy, you know you’re not supposed to be under there. Are you _trying_ to smother yourself?” Harry asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Emmy cracks a smile, propping herself up against her pillows. “If I did, would you finally get a life of your own?” She teases, cocking her head.

His little sister is snappy, much like a certain boy Harry knows.

At first, Harry was fond of Louis’s attitude because it reminded him of his little sister’s attitude, but he soon realized he couldn’t handle having two very snappy people in his life at once.

“I’m trying to have a life of my own, but any time I’m gone for more than 5 minutes, you call and tell me to come back,” Harry teases, reaching up to untwist the oxygen tubes attached to Emmy’s face.

She wiggles her nose, a strong cough strangling its way up her lungs.

Harry winces at the sound, reaching over to the nightstand to hand her a tissue. “Seriously, are you alright?” Harry asks, his voice soft.

It’s been hard watching his little sister struggle for nearly 20 years, but he’s also glad she’s stuck around as long as she has.

Her case of Cystic Fibrosis is harsher than most, meaning the doctors warn Harry every hospital visit that it could be her last.

Harry refuses to believe them, his little sister is a fighter. She always has been, she always will be.

“I’m fine, I just can’t find my inhaler,” Emmy says, trying to steady her breathing.

Harry sighs, standing up from the bed. Emmy has to use an inhaler any time she coughs too much or can’t breathe properly. She’s also on breathing treatments four times a day, along with a long list of medications to dilate her bronchus.

It’s expensive, but Harry would pay any amount of money to help his sister.

“Where did you put it last?” Harry asks, making his way over to her desk. It’s covered in papers and pill bottles, making it hard to dig through. Most of the papers are bills, the rest of them are layouts of the treatment she’s currently on...

Harry’s eyebrows furrow when his eyes land on one particular document, one he’s sure he’s never seen before.

‘You are eligible to receive the new Cystic Fibrosis medication!’

Harry’s hands shoot out for the paper, his eyes scanning the opening paragraph.

‘According to our records, you have a severe case of Cystic Fibrosis. The FDA is currently working on approving our newest medication, Trikafta. This medication is for patients who have shown no improvement with the use of alternate therapies.’

Harry skips over the middle paragraphs, the ones where they’re explaining how the medication works, how it was discovered, and the expected release date. He settles on the last paragraph, the most important one.

‘To receive one of the first doses, give us a call at (xxx) xxx-xxx. We will require a deposit of $20,000 as soon as you call, the remaining payment being due before we give you your first dose. You will receive a blister card with a month’s supply of the medication every month, each blister card costing upwards of $10,000.’

Harry turns on his heels, a grin spreading across his face. “Emmy! When did this come in the mail?” He asks, his heart racing.

He finally has another option besides watching his little sister waste away in front of him. The doctors have run out of options for Emmy, but this seems promising.

Emmy furrows her eyebrows, shaking her head. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” She mutters.

Harry cocks his head, taking a step toward the bed. “What do you mean? This is huge! This could really work,” He urges.

“I’m not going to do it.”

Harry scoffs, tucking the paper under his arm. He turns back around, digging through the papers to search for her inhaler. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot you want to die,”

“I don’t want to die, Harry. I just don’t want to watch you struggle to put food on the table because you’re having to pay for my treatments. You’re already struggling to pay for what we have now, I can’t—“

Harry turns back around, clutching the inhaler. “Well, it’s a good thing that I’m your guardian and I’m in charge of your medical decisions,” Harry interrupts.

“Not anymore, I removed you as my proxy. I’m in charge of my decisions now, and I’m saying I don’t want to do this,” Emmy argues.

Harry sucks in a sharp breath, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t understand why Emmy is against this. Harry will do whatever he has to in order for Emmy to get better, why doesn’t she care as much as he does?

“Mom wouldn’t want you to put yourself through this, H. You know she’d want you to live your life and not worry about me,”

“Don’t. Don’t bring mom into this,” Harry mutters, lowering his hand. He folds the paper and slips it into his back pocket, saving it for later.

Emmy sighs, laying back down in bed. Harry can tell she’s tired, she’s struggling to catch her breath.

After a few beats of silence, Emmy closes her eyes, snuggling into her bed. “I don’t know why you hate her so much. It’s not their fault they got into the wreck,” She mumbles, her words slurring together.

That’s how Harry knows she’s about to fall asleep, it’s always been a sign. He remembers when he was just 18, on his own for the first time, watching 13-year-old Emmy toss and turn in bed next to him, struggling to breathe in her sleep.

That was in their first apartment, the one they moved in without knowing anything about it. It was a studio apartment, not having so much as a bed frame. After a few weeks of living there, Emmy’s CF started getting worse. After running a few tests, the doctor informed Harry that the apartment they had been staying in was infected with mold.

They moved out that night.

After a few weeks living in the trusty Honda Civic, Harry found a decent apartment on the other side of town. Harry struggled for years to forgive himself for not checking the apartment for mold or doing more research, but he was only 18, he had no idea how to handle something like that.

“Yeah, well, they shouldn’t have been driving that night, anyway. They should’ve been right by your side, like I was,” Harry argues, but there’s no point.

Emmy is already asleep.

Harry sighs, placing her inhaler on her nightstand. He leans forward, pursing his lips together, giving her forehead a quick peck.

Across town, Louis is trying to gather his thoughts after being assaulted yet once again by Harry Styles.

After calling Zayn to pick him up, he joined the rest of the team (minus Harry, of course) at the newest victim’s house. Now, he’s searching the upper level, dusting for fingerprints.

“Are you going to tell me why I had to pick you up?” Zayn asks, announcing his presence in the room.

Louis focuses his eyes on the desk in front of him, his fingers landing on a gold locket necklace. “Nope,” He mutters, holding the necklace up in front of his face.

“It’s 18K yellow gold,” Zayn explains, leaning against the doorframe.

Louis hums, slowly nodding his head. He lowers the necklace, turning to face Zayn. “And you don’t think that’s suspicious? The unsub took off with earrings, rings… Hell, he even took the fake earrings,” Louis explains, running his finger along the length of the desk.

“It’s barely worth $1,000, he probably didn’t want to waste his time,”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. Whose room is this?” Louis asks, closing his fingers around the necklace.

Before Zayn can answer, a small voice comes from behind him. “It’s mine, my mom gave me the necklace before she passed away,” The girl explains, her voice shaking.

Zayn slowly nods his head, suddenly making the connection Louis made several moments ago.

“Can I open the locket?” Louis asks, watching as the girl nods. As soon as she gives him the signal, his fingers are prying the pieces apart, his eyes landing on a picture of the girl and what he assumes is her mother.

“You’re thinking he didn’t take the necklace because he knew it was sentimental to the daughter?” Zayn asks.

Once again, before Louis can answer, Niall is joining the room, holding the note above his head. “Looks like we’ve got an unsub with morals… Or at least feelings,” He announces.

The team gathers around, each one reading the note. Louis scans as quickly as he can, his eyes catching glimpses of ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘your mom would be so proud,’ and ‘I had to do this,’.

Louis shakes his head, not able to wrap his head around this. Why would someone break into houses and steal things if they feel guilty about doing it? It’s almost as if he feels he has to do it, it’s not that he derives any pleasure from the action.

Niall turns to the daughter, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Where were you when he broke in?”

The daughter gnaws on her bottom lip, pointing to the corner of her room. “I was here, I don’t think he knew I was in here. My dad was gone, he was on a date. When I heard him coming up the stairs, I hid behind my closet door,” She explains.

“Can you give us a description?” Louis asks.

The girl pushes her hair behind her ear, taking a deep breath. “I couldn’t see much of anything, it was really dark in here. He was tall, that’s really all I know.”

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWEG5xHgM7c))

“What about his voice? Did he say anything when he came into your room?” Niall asks.

“Um, I think so? I thought I heard something, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying,” The girl answers.

Louis sighs, shaking his head.

This guy is too damn good, whoever he is. He doesn’t leave any trace of himself, especially not when he sells the items he steals. They’ve never been able to find anything he’s stolen, no one on the team knows how he gets away with it.

The team breaks up, each one going back to their original places. The girl sits on her bed, watching as Louis examines the rest of her room. Louis feels weird going through her stuff while she’s watching, but he’s not exactly keen on telling her to fuck off, either.

The silence is quickly filled when Louis hears keys dangling. He turns around, seeing Harry standing in the doorway, Louis’s keys swinging back and forth on his slender finger.

“It’s about time, Styles. We’ve damn near solved the case without you,” Louis lies, walking over to Harry and jerking his keys away from him. He shoves his keys in his pocket, keeping them safe.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having Harry take his car the first time, he certainly doesn’t want it happening again. He’ll have to scrub the inside of his car for days, doing whatever he can to rid his car of that damn vanilla smell.

It’s bad enough he has to deal with it when he’s at work, he doesn’t want to carry it home with him.

Harry rolls his eyes, glancing around the room. “Yeah, right. You wouldn’t be able to solve this case if the unsub was standing right in front of you,” He says, a smug smile on his face.

Louis just wants to smack it off.

Or kiss it off.

The girl clears her throat, shifting in her place on the edge of the bed. “His voice was deep, like yours,” She mutters, her eyes trained on the floor.

Harry frowns, walking over to the dresser where the locket is hanging. He loops the necklace around his finger, studying the locket. He runs his finger over the pieces, examining the picture.

“And what’s your theory on him leaving the necklace behind?”

Louis stands next to Harry, shrugging his shoulders. “I reckon he opened the locket, realized it was of sentimental value, and decided he wasn’t that much of a monster,” Louis answers.

Harry snorts, his shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry, you think your unsub has got a heart?”

Louis rolls his eyes, turning to face Harry. He crosses his arms over his chest, staring up at Harry. “What’s your theory?”

Harry lightly traces the picture with his finger, memories of his own mother flooding back to him. He’s lucky that he had 18 years with her, Emmy only got 13 with her.

Most of the memories Emmy has of their mom involve watching her stress over bills, her helping with breathing treatments, or crying at the side of her hospital bed.

Most of Harry’s memories with her are happy, he always tried his best to distract his mother from the reality around her. He spent his days helping her cook her favorite meals, splashing her in the backyard pool, or telling her jokes until she was blue in the face from laughing.

Harry snaps back to reality, clearing his throat, resisting the urge to reach up and wipe his eyes. “He probably didn’t see the necklace, he was most likely in a hurry,” Harry explains.

“No, he saw it. He stared at it for a while, just like you are now.” The girl speaks up, standing up from her position.

Harry turns to face her, his eyebrows furrowing. “How do you know that?” He asks.

The girl rocks up on her heels, twirling her hair around her finger. It’s a nervous tic, Louis knows that. He also knows Harry has a nervous tic, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

Louis noticed it the first time he met Harry, 2 long years ago. He wasn’t exactly the picture of happiness then, but he was better off than he is now. He at least looked like he enjoyed life and was passionate about his job.

Louis remembers Harry standing at SSA Hale’s side, his arms tucked behind his back. He was standing there, his long hair curling at the ends.

For a second, Louis misses those long curls.

As SSA Hale was introducing Harry, he stood there, rocking back and forth on his toes, his nose wrinkling each time he had to speak to the team.

Louis remembers finding Harry quite adorable, having a slight crush on him.

That was, of course, before Harry made it his life mission to make Louis’s life complete and total hell.

Any feelings Louis had for Harry are long gone and are to never return.

“I was in the room, hiding behind my door. I peeked out and saw him standing there, staring at my locket. I thought he said something, but I couldn’t hear him well enough to understand what he was saying.” The girl explains.

Harry tightens his grip on the locket, his eyes darting between his position now and the closet door. She had a perfect line of sight, it’s a wonder she wasn’t able to give a complete description of the unsub.

Harry sets the necklace back down, turning on his heels. He walks out of the room with no explanation, wandering around the house until he finds the dad. When he finds him, he fights back the urge to knock him out, instead going the more professional route.

“Mr. Brown?” Harry asks, watching as the man turns his head.

“Yes?” The dad answers, turning to face Harry.

“Where were you last night?” Harry asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He flickers his eyes over the man’s face, using his skills to read his face.

The man laughs nervously, glancing over at Liam, who’s sitting at the kitchen table, his computer hooked up to several wires. “I already had this conversation with your coworkers,”

“Right, but you haven’t had it with me. So, again, where were you last night Mr. Brown?” Harry asks, his voice stern.

Louis rounds the corner just in time to catch the answer.

“I was… On a date,” The man hesitates.

Louis scowls, stepping closer to the pair. “Sure, if you want to call hooking up with a college girl who’s barely older than your daughter in the backseat of your car a date, go ahead,” Liam speaks up, his eyes still trained on the computer in front of him.

The man laughs nervously again, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “She’s 18, she’s a consenting adult,”

“Your daughter is 16, how would you feel if a 40-year-old man was fucking her in the backseat of his car?” Harry asks, taking a step closer.

Louis takes this opportunity to rest a gentle hand on Harry’s bicep, shooting him a warning look. It’s not that the man doesn’t deserve the ass-whooping that Harry’s ready to give him, but Louis doesn’t feel like filling out paperwork in HR headquarters on a Friday afternoon.

Harry glances down at his arm, watching as Louis lightly shakes his head. He looks back toward Mr. Brown. “Your daughter could’ve died last night. You’re lucky the unsub seems to have a heart, this could’ve ended up very differently if anybody else had broken in. When your wife died, she trusted that you would watch over her daughter. What would she think if she knew you were fucking college girls, leaving your daughter home alone, leaving her to protect herself against an intruder?”

“Don’t talk about my dead wife,” The man warns.

Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Do better,” He spits, tearing his arm away from Louis. Following right behind him, Louis walks out of the house, shutting the door behind him.

“What was that?” Louis asks, watching as Harry continues to shake his head.

Harry paces back and forth, running his fingers through his hair. “What’s so hard about being a good parent? You feed them, you support them, you take care of them, you protect them… I could’ve— I did a better job than most adults, why is it so hard for them?” Harry rambles, barely stopping to catch his breath.

Eventually, the lack of oxygen catches up with him. He can feel a panic attack coming on, but he can’t have one right now, not in front of Louis.

He doesn’t need his mortal enemy to see his weakness.

Luckily for him, Louis can recognize the signs of a panic attack, he doesn’t require anyone asking him for help in order for him to help them through it. Louis takes a couple of steps forward, holding his hands out in front of him.

“Hey, whatever’s going on up there… It’s got to stop. I don’t know what you’ve got going on or what you’re dealing with, but you got to take a couple of breaths, alright?” Louis encourages him, his voice soft.

He’s had his fair share of panic attacks, he knows they’re embarrassing to have even in front of people you’re comfortable around.

Harry nods, inhaling a breath through his nose. He keeps his eyes on Louis as he slowly exhales, repeating the motion several times. Once his breathing is regulated, Louis takes a step backward, giving Harry his space.

“Thank you,” Harry says, his voice barely above a whisper. Louis smiles weakly, turning to go back into the house.

Harry stays back, leaning against the side of the house.

Maybe Louis Tomlinson isn’t as bad as he seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know your thoughts about the fic so far!


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning // Mentions of prostitution

Chapter 4

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1368602786837921792?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIft-t-MQuE))

_He has to hurry, he has to make sure he gets out of here before the family wakes up and realizes their prized possessions are gone._

_He has to get out of here._

_Alive._

_He pops the lock on the window, grimacing as his muscles strain under the pressure. He swings his leg over the window, thankful for his long legs. He has no idea how he’d be able to do this so easily if he wasn’t as tall as he is._

_He swings his other leg through, his feet landing on the soft fabric of the couch. He carefully lowers himself down, until his feet are planted on the carpeted floor. He takes a deep breath, pulling the ski mask away from his face, just long enough so he can take a couple of unrestricted deep breaths._

_Once he feels he’s calmed down enough, his eyes quickly scan the room, trying to determine where to go first. He knows the family sleeps down the hall, so he’ll hit that room last. His eyes land on a sleeping cat, almost making him smile._

_It reminds him of the one he had growing up._

_Oddly, it calms him down._

_He gently walks to the center of the main room, poking and prodding around for any game consoles. Normally, in a house like this, he’ll find several game consoles, but tonight, he doesn’t see any. He’ll have to check upstairs in the kids’ bedrooms._

_He skips over the bathrooms, knowing from experience that more often than not, the valuables don’t tend to reside in rooms like that._

_On his way upstairs, his eyes land on an antique vase. He lightly runs his index finger down the length of the vase, sucking in a sharp breath._

_([x](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/product/prouna-pavo-urn-vase-0400012144857.html?site_refer=CSE_GGLPLA:Home:Prouna&country=US&currency=USD&CSE_CID=G_Saks_PLA_US_Handbags_Must+Win:Dolce+%26+Gabbana&gclid=CjwKCAiAkJKCBhAyEiwAKQBCkugyoWKXAMIKqV4tjZkjVMPdRC-Pxsvp1_bGg0eki48SF8sMvZBT7BoCsQwQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds))_

_It’s gorgeous._

_He can tell from experience that it’ll run about $1,000, so he makes a mental note to nab it on his way out tonight._

_He walks upstairs, holding his breath. There are 2 doors on the right, one on his left. He’s robbed enough houses to know the one on the left is most likely another bathroom. The first door on his right is probably the oldest kid’s room, so he decides to go there last._

_The older kids are always the hardest to sneak by._

_He takes another deep breath, his hand resting on the knob of the second door. He slowly pushes it in, opening the door to see the small child laying on their side. He walks past them, his eyes set on the game console connected to the TV._

_Instantly, his hands start working to disconnect the console. He’s done this a thousand times, he has every wire and every cable memorized._

_He tucks the console in his bag, swinging it back over his shoulder. He carefully walks to the dresser, seeing multiple baseball cards. He can’t take those, they’re too easy to track._

_He ignores things he can’t melt or sell for scrap metal, not finding much of anything. He does see a piggy bank, however. He shoves the piggy bank in his bag, turning to walk out of the room. He closes the door behind him, setting his sights on the older kid’s room._

_This is a different story._

_He’s hit the jackpot with this room._

_Thank god for spoiled little girls and daddy’s money._

_He quickly packs every bit of jewelry in his bag, not leaving anything behind. He can estimate that by her room alone, he can get $2,000. Unlike her little brother, she doesn’t have a piggy bank._

_No, she has something better._

_He can’t sell what she has, but it’ll be a nice gift for someone in his life._

_He shoves that in his bag, finishing his task in her room._

_He goes downstairs, heaving the antique vase along with him. He places it beside the window, preparing for if he has to run for his life. He backtracks to the parent’s bedroom, taking a quick deep breath._

_He double-checks to make sure his gloves are still tight on his fingers, making sure there’s no trace of him in this house._

_Before he can convince himself not to do it, he opens the bedroom door, the light from the window illuminating the faces of the couple._

_The wife is laying with her head on her husband’s chest, her chest heaving with every breath._

_He rids their room of anything he finds valuable, packing everything away in his bag. The whole time, the family stays asleep._

_He’s good, almost too good._

_He makes his way back out to the living room, carefully placing his bag outside of the window. He picks the vase up, shoving it through the open window, following its movements. Once he’s out of the house, he carefully shuts the window back, slinging his bag over his shoulder._

_It would be nice to have a car right now, but no, he has to walk back to his house, carrying a large vase._

_Let’s hope no one is wandering around the neighborhood at 3 in the morning._

_([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5Er9LIPplo))_

_After an almost hour walk, he enters his humble abode, walking down to the basement, emptying his bag._

_He piles the jewelry in one box, making a mental note to melt everything tomorrow. He places the game console on the table, not wanting to bother with it tonight. It’ll take around an hour for him to destruct it, stripping the wires and taking everything apart so he can sell it for scrap metal._

_He sets the gift aside, shoving the bag back in its place. He takes one more glance at the vase, his eyebrows furrowing when he notices something he’s never noticed before._

_There’s a date on the vase, at the bottom._

_‘R.I.P Mom. May 25, 1930 - December 01, 2000.’_

_His eyes widen, his heart starts to race._

_No._

_No._

_It can’t be._

_HE STOLE AN URN?_

_His hands start to shake, his throat starts to tighten._

_What the hell is he going to do with an urn? He can’t sell an urn, he won’t be able to live with himself. Plus, no one is going to buy an urn._

_A used urn._

_For a split second, he thinks about dumping the ashes down the toilet and then selling the urn, but he can’t do that. Not when he knows how it feels to lose someone._

_If he can’t return it to the house, he’ll have to keep it. He’ll take it upstairs, he’ll hide it away so no one can find it, and he’ll pretend like it’s not even there._

_Once he calms himself down, he strips himself of his clothes, leaving himself in only his black briefs._

_He makes his way upstairs, feeling as his eyelids start to flutter closed. He’s only going to get 2 hours of sleep, but he’s used to it by now._

_He sits on the edge of his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He hates that he has to do what he does, but what other choice does he have?_

_At least he always leaves a note explaining what happened, ensuring the family that they’re safe, that he has no interest in harming any of them._

_He snaps his head up, his eyes wide._

_The note._

_He forgot to leave a note._

_He groans, throwing himself back on his bed. How could he forget to leave a note? He always leaves a note, he’s never in 2 years forgotten to leave a note! Now, the family is going to have no way of knowing that they’re safe, they’re going to be even more terrified than usual!_

_He considers going back, but it’s an hour walk there, and an hour walk back. Not only would he not be back in time to go to work in the morning, but he can’t risk going back to the house. Everyone knows not to go back to a crime scene once you’ve left._

_Maybe he can find a way to sneak the note back in somehow._

_He’s never had to do that before, and it’s risky, but he can’t stand the thought of the family thinking they’re in danger._

_His intention was never to scare people. His intention was to do what he had to do, nothing more, nothing less._

_He’d never, ever harm anyone. Especially not children._

_Sure, he might be a criminal, but he’s above harming people who can’t defend themselves._

_He closes his eyes, focusing on his breaths. He’s always wound up after a night like this, it always takes him a while to calm down._

_He envies the criminals that can do whatever they want without feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. He can’t even take a necklace without feeling guilty._

_But then again, most criminals choose this lifestyle. He never did, he was forced into it. If he hadn’t been forced to grow up so fast, he might’ve been able to live a normal life._

_  
He might’ve been able to get a normal job, he might’ve been able to spend his nights with his friends instead of robbing houses, he might’ve even been able to fall in love…_

_For a moment, 2 long years ago, he thought he had fallen in love._

_He spent his days thinking about one person, he spent his nights thinking about one person, he found himself wanting to spend more time with that person._

_Then, everything changed._

_He soon realized he’d never be able to have that, not as long as he’s doing what he’s doing._

_No one will love him if they find out about what he’s doing._

_He can’t bring himself to fall in love with a person only to hide a major aspect of his life from them. No, they deserve more than that._

_They deserve to be with someone who doesn’t hide anything, someone who doesn’t rob people._

_So, that’s when the hatred began. Most of it stems from his hatred of himself, but it comes across as hatred for the person he almost loved._

_Deep down, it’s hatred for the life he could’ve had._

_He snuggles deep into his bed, closing his eyes, picturing what his life would be like if he hadn’t had to grow up so fast._

_Maybe he’d be working as an accountant downtown, spending his days dressed in a suit and sitting at a desk. He’d have a partner who’d bring him lunch on days they knew he’d be extra stressed, maybe they’d even let him bend them over his desk, releasing his frustrations out on them._

_He’d spend the rest of the day longing to go home, maybe he’d have kids waiting for him at home._

_He’d spend his afternoon helping his partner around the house, using every opportunity he found to place a quick kiss to their lips._

_Maybe he’d help his kids with their homework, even though he was absolute shit at it growing up._

_He’d help get the kids ready for bed, patiently waiting for his partner to join him in bed. He’d cuddle up with them, much like he is with his pillow right now, with not a worry in the world._

_He’d never know how it felt to go hungry, he’d never know how it felt to struggle financially, he’d never know what it felt like to lose someone._

_The only thing he’d have to worry about would be which car he’d take to work the next day._

_He would know what it would feel like to be loved._

_He knows what it feels like to be needed, but does he know what it feels like to be loved?_

_He could take his kids to their grandma’s house, watching her play with them much like she played with him when he was a child._

_He’d watch as his partner helps his mom with the big Sunday dinner, while he got to catch up with his dad._

_He’d finally be able to show his dad that he’s doing a good job, he’d finally be able to make his dad proud._

_He’s hit with the sudden realization that if his parents were alive today, they would be incredibly disappointed with him._

_You were raised better than this, his mom would say._

_You were taught right from wrong, his dad would say._

_And they would be right._

_He was taught right from wrong, he was raised better than this._

_But how does one decide what is right and what is wrong, especially when the lines blur together so easily?_

_It’s the age-old argument every student has had in a psychology class._

_Is it wrong for a man to steal food for his starving children?_

_He’s still breaking the law, he’s stealing! But does the intention behind the action outweigh the crime?_

_He runs his hands over his face, letting out a quiet groan._

_He’ll never be able to go to sleep now, he’s too deep in his thoughts. He’ll just have to get extra sleep tomorrow night._

_He can afford to take one night off, right?_

_He sits up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He makes his way to the bathroom, running the sink water. He stares at himself in the mirror as he waits for the water to warm up._

_His mind flashes back to before he started robbing houses._

_He was still desperate for money, but he had alternate ways of getting the money._

_Instead of stealing, he was selling._

_And instead of selling gold, silver, and scrap metal, he was selling himself._

_Instead of spending his nights in fancy homes, handling fine jewelry, he spent his nights in the back of an alley, screwing his eyes shut as he felt a stranger’s hand wander around his body._

_He doesn’t regret it, much like he’s sure he won’t regret what he’s doing now._

_He did what he had to do, he’d do it over again if he had to._

_He takes a deep breath, cupping his hands together under the water. He leans down, splashing the water over his face. The warmth feels nice on his skin, it relaxes him immediately._

_When he’s finished washing his face, he turns to walk back into the bedroom, but he’s caught off-guard by a figure standing in the hall._

_“You went out again?” The figure asks, disappointment in their voice._

_He sighs, running his damp fingers through his hair. “Yeah, had a rough day at work,” He answers._

_The figure frowns, shaking its head. “I don’t understand why you go out so much. You don’t even get drunk,”_

_He brushes past the figure, walking into his bedroom. He’s not proud of his lies, but he can’t exactly be honest about what he’s doing when he’s out at night._

_“Go to bed,” He says, shutting the door before the figure can protest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter that is in italics is the Unsub's POV!!


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have another update Thursday and then I won't be able to update until Sunday! Leave your thoughts and feel free to dm me on twitter if you want to talk ! :)

Chapter 5

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1369125916614430725?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jn6-TItCazo))

Louis runs his finger along the length of the windowsill, collecting the remaining dust on his fingertips. He’s surprised all of the dust wasn’t swept away when the intruder broke in through the window, that’s what he was expecting.

Most of the time, when someone breaks in through a window, any dust that had accumulated on the windowsill is brushed away, either by the wind pushing in when the window was opened or the body of the intruder as he entered and exited.

But this guy has skill, it’s been proven time and time again.

He breaks into a house, sneaks past a sleeping family, takes what he needs (and nothing more), and leaves before anyone can suspect anything.

Louis lifts his finger, watching as the dust catches on the sunlight.

This is a fresh crime scene, the break-in just happened last night. Whoever the intruder is, he’s getting desperate, that much is obvious.

Normally, he’d only break-in once or twice a week, but now, it’s happening more often. He’s broken in at least two nights in a row, the time before that, he’d broken in three nights in a row.

Whatever the reason he’s doing this, the pressure must’ve increased on him. That’s the only explanation.

He’s spiraling.

“Were you able to find a note?” Zayn asks, resting his hand on Louis’s shoulder. The rings on his hand cut through Louis’s thin shirt, causing a quick shiver to run up his spine.

“No, I double-checked every room,” Louis answers, brushing his hands together to rid them of the dust. He turns to face Zayn, who’s shaking his head.

“I’m worried we’re never going to catch this guy,” He mutters, suddenly twisting the ring on his right hand. It’s a simple ring, but it stands out.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen if we don’t? He doesn’t harm anyone, I don’t see any indicators that his crimes will escalate. Why don’t we focus our time on the serial killer down in Arkansas? Or the serial rapist in Nevada?” Louis asks, his voice hushed.

He doesn’t like going against Zayn, but it’s pointless to him to continue working on this case. He doesn’t understand why they can’t give the case to the local state investigators. There are better things they could be applying their time and skills to.

Zayn takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact with Louis. He squints his eyes, shielding them from the sun pouring in through the window. “SSA Hale has been hounding me about solving this case. Says it looks bad on me as the team leader that it’s taken 2 years to solve a simple breaking and entering case,” He explains.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head. Zayn is one of the best profilers on the team! He’s solved several cases on his own, ones that have been much harder than this.

“Come on, don’t let SSA Hale get to you,” Louis encourages. When Zayn doesn’t show any signs of relaxation, Louis tries again.

“You could always get green contacts and a brown, curly wig and see if that changes his mind?” Louis teases, watching as Zayn chuckles quietly.

Louis almost feels bad for cracking a joke at Harry’s expense, especially after watching whatever the hell happened yesterday on the case. He’s never seen Harry so...

Protective.

And what was Harry referring to when he said he did a better job than most parents? Harry has kids? Louis can’t exactly picture Harry as the loving father figure, but hey, you never know.

“Speaking of a green-eyed, curly boy, have you seen him?” Zayn asks.

“I haven’t, but to be fair, I don’t make it a habit to seek out my mortal enemy,” Louis says.

Zayn gives him one last clap on the shoulder, giving him a tight smile. “Tell him to come see me if you find him.”

Zayn joins Liam in the kitchen, hovering over his shoulder as he watches him work his magic. So far, the only things Liam has found out about the Wilson family is that the father has an obsession with porn, the mother is popping pills like they’re candy, the daughter is blowing all of daddy’s money on weed, and the little boy...

Well, he’s just obsessed with baseball.

Louis strolls into the master bedroom, where he finds Harry with his back to him. Harry is holding something in his hands, but Louis can’t tell what it is.

Harry is dressed quite nicely today.

With his velvet pants, his graphic tee, the dirtiest vans Louis’s ever seen, and his button-up shirt, Louis considers what it’d be like if he didn’t hate Harry.

It almost makes him want to work on his hatred for Harry, just to see if they could ever get along.

Louis eyes Harry’s thighs, wondering what it would be like if Louis could climb up on his lap, rutting his hips down on those gorgeous thighs, looking for any type of friction. He’d give anything to feel Harry’s hands (god, those HANDS) rubbing his ass, pinching and squeezing wherever he could.

Louis might like to take a fistful of those brown curls, tilting Harry’s head up, so he could get access to his neck, leaving tiny little love bites to show everyone wh—

Harry clears his throat, his tongue sticking out to lick at his pink lips. “Can I help you?” He asks, raising a suggestive eyebrow. He had felt Louis staring at him for the past 30 seconds, even with his back turned.

When he finally turned around, he expected Louis to have enough common decency to look away, to behave like any other normal human and pretend he hadn’t just been caught eye-fucking someone.

But no, Louis was still staring, shamelessly biting his lip and eyeing Harry’s thighs.

Louis’s eyes widen, all of his blood rushing to his cheeks.

Well, all of the blood except for the blood that’s currently running to his cock.

“Oh, uh, Zayn told me to tell you to go see him,” Louis stumbles out, trying to resist the urge to slink away, all the way out of the house, until he’s safe in his car.

From there, he’d like to drive to Mexico, where he’ll never, ever have to face Harry again.

Because Harry definitely just caught him eye-fucking his thighs.

His thighs, of all things.

“Oh,” Harry says, shrugging. He’d half-expected Louis to come up with some witty remark after being caught staring, so he was pleasantly surprised when Louis only had instructions for him.

Louis turns to walk out of the room to hand Zayn his letter of resignation when something catches his eye.

Harry is holding a note.

A note that looks exactly like the notes left at the other houses.

Louis rushes over to him, snatching the paper out of his hands. “What is this?” He asks, his eyes scanning over the handwriting. It’s definitely by the same unsub, Louis can tell that.

The note reassures the family that they won’t be hurt, that they won’t be targeted again. The note also mentions something about an antique vase, but Louis just skips over that.

“What do you mean? It’s the note the unsub left,” Harry explains.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. I mean, where did you get this? I looked everywhere for this note,”

“Must’ve not looked hard enough, it was on the nightstand.” Harry answers.

Louis stares up at him, frowning. He had checked the nightstand, he checked it several times, actually.

The note wasn’t there, he’s sure of it.

Harry shoves his hands in his pocket, shrugging. It’s not unlike Louis to get so caught up in something (such as eye-fucking someone’s thighs) that he overlooks things or simply forgets about the case altogether.

Harry looks Louis up and down, taking in the way his black leather jacket practically swallows him whole. He can tell he just got done having a cigarette, he can still smell the tobacco on his breath.

It’s a weird combination in the room, vanilla and tobacco.

“You joining the Pink Ladies or something?” Harry teases, his tongue working to move the gum around in his mouth. He thinks about offering Louis some, just so he doesn’t have to smell smoke anymore, but that’s almost crossing the line to friendship.

Louis frowns, his embarrassment quickly turning to hatred. He hates Harry, he doesn’t even know why he allowed himself to pretend that he didn’t.

“No, if I was joining the Pink Ladies, my jacket would be pink, genius,” Louis says, giving a condescending smile to the boy in front of him.

Harry chews on the gum, the smell of mint lingering in the back of his throat. His dimples pop out as he leans against the nightstand, thoroughly enjoying the effect his teasing has on Louis.

“With all of these nicknames, I’m starting to think you forgot my name,”

Harry almost wants to lean over and press Louis against the bedroom wall, slotting his mouth against his, pushing his gum in his mouth, finally getting rid of that smoke smell. He’d leave Louis breathless, he’d never forget Harry’s name after that.

Especially not if he was screaming his name over and over again.

But that would definitely be crossing the line.

Before Louis can retaliate, Harry’s phone is ringing in his back pocket. He doesn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it is.

It’s the only person that ever calls him.

He slides the bar over, pressing his phone against his ear. “What’s up?” He asks, watching as Louis tucks the note in his back pocket.

“My nebulizer is out of batteries and I don’t think I can make it to the basement to get more,” Emmy explains, her voice thick with mucus. Harry can tell she hasn’t taken any of her breathing treatments today, he can always tell.

Harry sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He loves Emmy and he’ll do whatever he has to in order to keep her around, but he just wishes he could afford for someone to stay at home with her while he’s away.

It would be so much better for both of them.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 10,” Harry responds, hanging up before she can say anything else.

Louis raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry is trying to leave again? What about the case? What about Zayn?

Zayn’s job is on the line because of Harry, because he’s not putting his best foot forward.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Louis asks.

Harry digs in his pocket for the keys to the team car, glancing up at Louis. “I have to run home for a bit, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Louis shakes his head, not believing this. This is the third day in a row that Harry has left work. He refuses to be left all alone again.

“Fine. But I’m going with you,” Louis protests.

Harry groans, throwing his head back. He doesn’t want anyone in his personal space, especially not Louis Tomlinson.He doesn’t let anyone in his house, for multiple reasons.

Not many people know about Emmy.

Liam and SSA Hale are the only ones that know about her.

Harry doesn’t want Louis to find out, he’ll be blabbing about it to the whole team before the day is over.

“That’s ridiculous, I told you I’ll be back—“

“I’m going or I’ll tell SSA hale that you were tampering with evidence,” Louis bargains.

Harry rolls his eyes, trying to think of any other way to get out of this situation. He knows SSA Hale goes easy on him, he doesn’t want to take advantage of that.

Harry takes a deep breath, unlocking the car. “Fine, but do not go in. Sit in the car and behave,”

-

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ay4S61byZo))

So, Louis did not sit in the car and behave.

But how could he?

How could he when he could find answers about why Harry is the way he is? There’s a house full of secrets and confessions right in front of him. He’s been in all of the boy’s houses, everyone has been in his.

Except for Harry.

So when Harry left the car to go inside, Louis waited a full 2 minutes before making his way into the house. He snuck through the door, landing his eyes on the master bedroom.

It’s clean, it’s very organized, but something still feels... Wrong.

It’s odd to think of Harry as an actual human, Louis only sees him working cases and taking mysterious phone calls. It’s weird for Louis to imagine Harry as a complex human with real and raw emotions.

Louis pads over to the nightstand, carefully picking up a picture frame. It’s a picture of a couple, but he can’t tell who it is.

Louis puts the frame back down, walking to the corner of the room. There’s a vase sitting in the corner. Louis walks up to it, squatting in front of it.

It’s a gorgeous vase, but that’s not all it is.

It’s an urn.

Louis carefully reads the print on the bottom. He furrows his eyebrows, frowning.

His mom died? When Harry was 6?

‘You should be nicer to him,’

Those words replay in Louis’s head as he stands, his throat tightening. Does Liam know? Is that why he’s always telling Louis to be nicer?

Louis can’t imagine having to grow up without a mom, maybe that’s why Harry is so distant and cold.

Before he can think about it anymore, he hears Harry enter the room. Harry leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s my mom,” He mutters, watching as Louis turns around.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed in the car,” Louis says.

Harry silently stares at Louis, scrambling to find the words to say. He doesn’t want to give away too much information, but he feels like he has to explain the urn in his bedroom.

“It’s the only thing I have left of her, really. So I like to keep it close,” He explains.

Louis simply nods, praying to whatever god is above that they’ll get him out of this situation. Louis hates talking about death or anything else deep, especially with his mortal enemy.

“I get it, my mom passed away not too long ago.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, his heart almost beating out of his chest. Is that why Louis took some time off 6 months ago? He’s never done that before, but Harry didn’t think much about it. He only took a week off, but the boys on the team always invited Harry to come with them to visit him.

Harry had spent the whole week mentally cursing Louis for leaving him alone to work on a case.

He never would’ve done that if he had known.

“I was lucky enough to have 27 years with her, though. I can’t imagine only having 6,” Louis finishes.

Harry eyes the urn, suddenly very aware of the writing at the bottom. His eyes flutter over to Louis, clearing his throat.

“We should get back to the case,” He distracts. He doesn’t want to spend another second talking about the stupid urn and his mother.

Harry pushes away from the doorframe, leading the way to the team car. He passes his car on the way out, frowning as he’s reminded of the expenses. It’ll cost at least $1300 and that’s money Harry doesn’t have.

You would think he has more money than he does, considering he works for the FBI, but with Emmy’s bills piling up and everything going wrong with his car, he struggles to get by.

Emmy has tried to pull her own weight, but considering she can’t walk more than 5 feet without getting out of breath or coughing up a lung, it makes things hard.

Harry never wants her to think she’s a burden, because she’s not. Harry would rather her be at home with him than to be in a home somewhere with a nurse taking care of her. It’s his job to protect his little sister, no matter what stress it brings on him.

Louis stands next to the car door, watching Harry as he’s stopped in his tracks. He’s lost in his thoughts, Louis can tell that much. Louis’s never seen Harry this upset.

He would’ve just stayed in the car if he knew Harry would be bothered by him going in the house so much.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, some things might seem meaningless or pointless... But I promise, everything in this story has a purpose! :) 
> 
> After today, I won't be able to update until around Sunday/Monday! Then I'll have one up Tuesday/Wednesday, then I won't be able to post again until the following Sunday!

Chapter 6 

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1369421639306387469?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAo38Q9c4xA))

After a silent car ride, Harry dropped both of them back at headquarters. The rest of the team is huddled around the table, showing their findings to SSA Hale. Louis and Harry walk in just in time to hear Zayn present a picture to him.

“The daughter said she’s missing a pocketbook. It’s a limited edition Saint Laurent bag, it can run anywhere from $1,900 to $2,250,” He explains, watching as SSA Hale examines the picture.

Louis and Harry sit down next to each other, Louis leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. “There wasn’t a note and he took a pocketbook. This is not his MO, I think it’s time to consider the possibility of this being a different suspect entirely,” Liam speaks up.

This jogs a memory in Louis’s brain, one from after he was caught eye-fucking Harry’s delicious thighs. Louis shifts his weight in his seat, reaching in his back pocket to get the note.

“He did leave a note, Harry found it in the bedroom,” Louis says, pushing the note across the table. SSA Hale picks it up, his eyes scanning the paper.

“I thought you said you looked in the bedroom?” Niall asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Louis frowns, his eyes flickering down to the table. He had, he even double and triple-checked. He’s never missed something like that, he’s always been at the top of his game.

“I did,” He mutters, watching as SSA Hale’s eyes shoot up from the paper, giving him a disapproving look.

Harry fumbles with his hands under the table, suddenly feeling guilty. He should tell the team that Louis really did look, he tried his best. He should tell the team he found the note hidden away in one of the drawers, instead of where he really found it.

He opens his mouth to say, ‘It took me a while to find it, too,’, but what comes out instead is,

“Maybe if you weren’t too busy staring at me, you would’ve found it sooner,”

Louis looks over at him, his lips parted, his eyes full of betrayal. He thought they were becoming friends! When he saw Harry open his mouth, he was relieved to think Harry was coming to his defense.

Instead, he completely betrayed him. What about all of the bonding they did over their mothers? Louis saw a spark of hope in his relationship with Harry, but that’s all gone now.

Niall throws his head back, laughing. He places his hand over his belly, his shoulders shaking.

Liam fights back a smile while Zayn shakes his head.

But the worst reaction of all is SSA Hale’s.

“If you can’t learn how to work with people you’re attracted to, I’m going to have to transfer you to our unit in Virginia. Nothing but females there, Agent Tomlinson,” He mutters.

Louis’s jaw drops even more, his face brighter than any shade of red he’s ever seen.

Attracted?

Who said anything about Louis being attracted to Harry?

He’s not!

Sure, Harry might have the best thighs, the best curls, the best hands he’s ever seen on a man, but that doesn’t mean he’s attracted to him!

How could he be attracted to someone he knows nothing about? Maybe if Harry didn’t have that horrible personality, Louis could be attracted to him.

Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow. He watches as Louis fidgets in his chair, failing miserably to come up with a rebuttal.

He feels bad for not coming to Louis’s defense, but he can’t start going soft now.

He’ll never allow himself to feel that way about Louis again.

“I… I am not _attracted_ to Harry, I…” Louis attempts, searching the room for anything he can use to get out of this.

His eyes land on the place Harry assaulted him for the first time, jogging his memory again.

“I don’t feel safe, that’s all! I was staring at him because I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to try anything. He’s assaulted me twice in the last three days. If you’re going to transfer anyone, it should be him!”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest.

He thinks Harry should be transferred?

That’s ridiculous.

He didn’t even assault him, he just… Scared him, that’s all.

SSA Hale sighs, closing his eyes. After a couple of moments, he opens his eyes again.

“Fine. Harry, come to my office, we’ll sign you up for anger management classes,” He announces.

A smile breaks out onto Louis’s face, feeling a small amount of pride. He’s finally got Harry back for all of the snide remarks and side comments.

Harry rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He doesn’t need anger management, he needs Louis to stop being such an incessant asshole.

“And Louis, speak with Director Wray about self-defense classes if you’re truly worried about Harry harming you,”

Harry laughs out loud, damn near throwing his back out the way his shoulders are shaking so violently.

Self-defense classes? Harry tries to picture Louis learning self-defense, but he can’t without laughing.

Louis pouts, huffing. He doesn’t need self-defense classes.

He’s an FBI agent, for god’s sake! He knows how to fight, he could protect himself if he really needed to, but he’s never felt like he seriously needs to.

The team breaks up, each one going to their desks. Harry makes his way to SSA Hale’s office, hoping he can talk him out of this. He doesn’t need anger management classes.

Louis sits next to Zayn, a pout still prominent on his lips.

“You going to take Hale’s advice?” Zayn asks, never looking up from his papers. He’s going back over the Brown’s statements, along with the Smiths’.

Louis scoffs, twisting his pen around between his fingers. “No! Do you think I need self-defense classes?” He asks.

Zayn smiles to himself, barely turning his head to look at Louis. “You can defend yourself if you have a gun on you, but what happens if you don’t have a gun? You’re certainly not going to shoot Harry,” He says.

Louis ponders his statement, pursing his lips together.

“Are you?” Zayn asks, his eyes widening.

Louis frowns, shaking his head. “No, I’m not going to shoot Harry, Zayn,” He mutters.

Before Zayn can respond, they’re interrupted by a slam of a door. Harry is leaving SSA Hale’s office, his eyes set on Louis. His eyebrows are furrowed as he points a finger to Louis.

“You. Follow me.” He demands.

Louis raises his eyebrows, sitting up in his seat. Who does Harry think he is? He can’t boss Louis around.

“Absolutely not,” Louis says, his voice high and snappy.

Harry rushes over to Louis’s desk, slamming his palms down, causing a sting to shoot up his forearms.

It only spurs him on.

“Now,” He says, gritting his teeth. He doesn’t have time to mess around with Louis right now, he’s in no mood for his games.

Louis swallows, slowly standing up. He’s seen Harry mad plenty of times, but never like this.

Never like this.

“Bet you wish you’d signed up for those classes now,” Zayn murmurs, his eyes back on the papers.

Louis ignores his comment, following Harry to the hallway. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, but he reckons he’ll end up with a bruised eye and a busted lip.

He’s preparing himself for the worst.

As soon as the boys are out into the hallway, Louis stops in his tracks. Harry keeps going, his eyes searching for an empty room. “You know, you can beat me up in the hallway. You don’t have to beat me up in private,” Louis says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry rolls his eyes, ignoring Louis. He opens the utility room door, reaching out and grabbing Louis’s arm. He pulls him in the room before Louis can process what’s happening.

“What the hell are you doing?” Louis squeaks, shutting his eyes as he’s slammed against the wall. The room is dark and cold, sending a suspicious shiver down Louis’s spine.

“You just cost me $1,000!” Harry shouts, slamming his hands against the wall beside of Louis’s head. Louis flinches, opening his eyes back up.

He can’t see anything, but he can feel Harry’s breath on his face and he can feel what he can only guess is a broom poking his side.

“What are you talking about?” Louis asks, lifting his hands and pushing Harry’s chest. He has to get out of here, this is ridiculous!

This feels like high school.

Louis spent most of his years trapped against a wall while the older boys teased him and poked fun at him.

He doesn’t like feeling like he’s back in high school.

“The anger management classes! He signed me up for 52 hours of it, Louis. That’s almost 5 days of sitting in a classroom for 12 hours. 12. Fucking. Hours. I don’t even need the classes!” Harry says, keeping Louis trapped.

How is he supposed to take care of Emmy if he’s trapped in a classroom for 12 hours? How is he ever going to afford these classes? He already paid the mechanic to fix his car, this is only going to break him further.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OMptcPcw0Y))

“You’re not going a very good job of proving that you don’t need them,” Louis huffs, writhing to get away from Harry. Every time he’s almost free, Harry grabs his arm and pins him against the wall again.

“You are the only person that gets me like this, Louis. You are the only person who can push and push and push, until I’m at my end,” Harry mutters, shaking his head.

Louis takes a deep breath, twisting his wrist.

Harry only tightens his grip.

Harry sticks his tongue out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes straining to see Louis in the dark. He can’t see much of anything, but he can feel Louis’s wrist twisting in his grip.

Louis is the only person that can annoy Harry to this point, no one else has ever made Harry like this.

Harry doesn't understand it.

Harry has to get back at him, he has to push him to insanity the way he’s pushing Harry to insanity.

Harry leans forward, crashing his lips against Louis’s. He loosens his grip on Louis’s wrist, switching the hold from possessive and controlling to desiring and desperation.

He pushes his tongue into Louis’s mouth, feeling him give up the fight. Louis’s mouth moves with Harry’s, his hands reaching up to thread through Harry’s curls.

They’re just as soft as he imagined they would be.

Harry moans into the kiss, his hands moving to Louis’s waist, pushing his shirt up so he can access the plushy skin. He’s had dreams about what he would do if he ever got the chance to do this. Now that it’s happening, he can barely handle it.

Louis moans as he feels Harry lightly nip at his lip, tugging at his hair.

He has no idea what’s happening, but he’s not about to stop it.

Harry slots his thigh between Louis’s legs, pulling his pink lips away from Louis’s swollen ones. He rests his forehead on Louis’s, trying to catch his breath.

“You like my thighs, huh?” Harry asks, his voice low and gravely.

Louis eagerly nods, his fingers flexing in Harry’s hair. He can barely think straight, he just knows he needs Harry right now.

Harry pushes his thigh against Louis, a smile breaking out on his face. “Then use it. Want you to get off on my thigh,” He mutters, dipping his head down to suck on Louis’s neck.

Louis moans quietly, grinding his hips down on Harry’s thigh. It’s not the friction he wanted, but it’s still friction. Harry works to push the collar of Louis’s shirt down, sucking a hickey onto his skin.

Louis throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s been so long since he’s had any action, it’s just been him and his hand for the past 6 months.

Harry pushes his thigh up, whimpering when he feels Louis grow against his thigh. He knows Louis is desperate for him, it’s exactly what he wanted.

“Want you to tell me when you’re close,” Harry murmurs, pulling Louis closer.

Louis nods, his voice trapped in his throat.

He keeps his eyes closed, rutting against Harry’s thigh. He already feels the pressure building up at the bottom of his spine, he knows he’s getting close. He just needs something… Anything to push him over the edge.

“Thought you hated me? Now, look at you, so desperate f’me you’re getting off on my thigh. How pathetic.” Harry growls, his grip tightening on Louis’s hips.

Louis feels his cock growing harder, pressing against the fabric of his pants. His pants are impossibly tight, he has to get them off.

“Tell me how bad you need me,” Harry orders, placing strategic kisses behind Louis’s ear, tempting him.

Louis pants, opening his eyes. He wishes he you see Harry right now, he wishes he could see what he looks like when he’s desperate and horny.

Louis bets it’s a beautiful sight.

“N-Need you, Harry. Need you so bad,” He croaks out, his jaw going slack when he feels his balls tighten. He’s never been this close just from someone’s hands and thigh. It’s embarrassing, actually.

Harry smirks into the darkness, pulling his hands away from Louis.

“You’re almost there, yeah?”

Louis nods, furrowing his eyebrows. He’s so close, he can feel it coming. He just needs…

Harry pulls his thigh away from Louis.

“What the fuck?” Louis shouts, coming down from his high.

Harry smiles, backing away from Louis. He brings his hands up to his face, seemingly trying to wipe the smirk off of his stupid face.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Louis Tomlinson was begging for me,” He says, his voice thick with pride.

Louis frowns, stepping away from the wall. “Y-You tricked me! What is wrong with you?” Louis asks, his cheeks heating up.

How embarrassing.

He was begging for Harry, he was getting off on his thigh!

His mortal enemy’s thigh!

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s what you get for costing me $1,000,”

Without another word, Harry turns to exit the room. Louis stays behind, throwing his head back. He can’t believe that just happened.

He’s supposed to hate Harry, he can’t go around humping his leg like a dog!

How unbelievably embarrassing and mortifying.

When Harry steps out of the room, he leans against the hallway wall, taking a deep breath.

Yes, he did that just to annoy Louis, but he can’t lie and say it didn’t affect him. He reaches down the front of his pants, readjusting himself.

He can’t walk around with a raging boner in the FBI headquarters.

-

After a long day at work, Louis agreed to meet up with the boys for drinks. It’s exactly what he needs after this morning’s mishap.

He spent the rest of the day glaring at Harry from across the room, once again unable to focus on the case at hand.

Harry continued his day as usual, checking his phone and taking phone calls. He acted like it didn’t even bother him.

Louis walks through the doors of the bar, his sights set on his boys. He needs to get drunk and blow off steam. Luckily, it’s a Friday night, so he doesn’t have to worry about being hungover at work.

He sits down next to Liam, ordering himself a beer.

“So, are you going to tell us what happened earlier?” Zayn asks, leaning against the bar. He takes a quick sip of his drink, keeping his eyes on Louis.

Louis shakes his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “Nope,” He mutters.

Niall laughs beside of Liam, leaning forward to get a glimpse of Louis. “Doesn’t look like he beat your ass… Did he at least cuss you out?”

Louis huffs, suddenly regretting his decision to join his friends. He’s not in the mood to tell his friends how he dry-humped his mortal enemy’s thigh. It’s mortifying enough that it happened, he doesn’t want his friends to tease him about it for the rest of his life.

Louis’s attention is drawn to the door when he feels a gush of cold air blowing through the bar, sending a shiver down his spine.

And of course, who else would it be?

“You seriously invited him tonight?” Louis asks, his attention focused on Liam. He doesn’t have to think long about who invited Harry, Liam is the only one that really speaks to him.

The rest of the boys are civil with him, but Liam always picks him up and pulls him off to the side.

Liam shrugs, pursing his lips. “I invite him every weekend, he just finally accepted this one,”

Of course, out of two years, Harry picks this night to join the team. Louis considers finishing off his beer and driving home, but he was so looking forward to having this night with his friends.

Maybe Harry got his fill of torturing Louis this morning.

Harry walks up to the bar, ordering a drink. Louis watches as his curls fall down his face, his memory betraying him. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about this morning, how it felt to kiss him, how it felt to have his hands all over him.

Louis wants it again.

“I see you got your car fixed,” Liam announces, nodding his head to the door.

Harry turns to face him, a fake smile plastered on his face. He didn’t want to come out tonight, but he was on the phone with Emmy when Liam invited him. She threatened to stop taking her meds if Harry didn’t go out this time, which was somewhat dramatic to Harry.

“Uh, yeah. He didn’t have to order any parts for it, so he finished it sooner than expected,” He answers.

He scans the room until his eyes land on a very angry Louis.

Harry holds back the urge to laugh.

He didn’t realize how angry his actions would make Louis. He thought he’d be upset for maybe an hour, but he didn’t think he’d still be mad after work.

He was just getting a little revenge, that’s all.

“Oh, come on, Zayn! You’re telling me you’d rather curl up with a cat than to play fetch with a dog?” Niall asks, his words lightly strung together.

Louis perks up, watching the interaction. Niall and Zayn have been immersed in their own conversation since Harry walked in. Louis hasn’t been paying attention until now.

“Yes! What’s so hard to believe about that?” Zayn asks.

Niall sighs, his sights set on Louis. “And you, Tommo? I can trust you’re on my side?”

“Yeah, dogs are way better,” Louis answers.

Niall turns to Harry, raising his eyebrows, silently asking him to answer the question.

Harry shifts in his position, his fingers tightening on his drink. He hates this question. Why can’t you be a dog-person and a cat-person? They’re both great in their own ways.

“Erm, I grew up with cats, I love them. Never really had a dog, though,” He answers.

His favorite cat was his childhood cat. Dusty was a great cat, she always kept and never work anyone up at night. Harry thought about getting a cat for Emmy, to keep her company while he’s at work, but that’s another thing he’d have to pay for.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” Louis mutters, shaking his head.


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't proof-read this, because I wanted to get it out before the grammy's started. If there's any mistakes, I apologize! 
> 
> Let me know what you think about this chapter!! 
> 
> This will be the last update until wednesday, then I won't have another one up until Sunday.

Chapter 7 

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1371131021542924290?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-i6QfXbbV4s))

“Agent Tomlinson, can I have a word with you?” SSA Hale asks, standing outside of his office. He motions for Louis to follow him in. It’s the end of the work-day, meaning Louis has had to suffer through another long day of avoiding Harry. It’s been two days since their little incident.

Louis was hopeful that the weekend would allow the awkwardness to subside, but he was wrong. As soon as the team gathered for their morning meeting, Harry was staring at Louis and making fake moaning noises, much like a prepubescent boy would do in middle school.

It was disgusting.

Louis gathers his papers, shoving his keys in the pocket of his jeans. He takes a deep breath, heading up the stairs to meet SSA Hale. When he enters the dark room, he soon finds out that he’s not the only person with SSA Hale.

Harry is sitting in a chair in front of Hale’s desk, his head hung low. Louis stops in the doorway, his eyes trained on Harry. He’s never seen him like this… He’s not angry, he’s almost…

Nervous?

He’s picking at his nails, the noise almost sending Louis into overdrive.

“Have a seat,” SSA Hale instructs, settling into his position behind the desk. He’s standing, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Louis tears his eyes away from Harry, taking a seat beside him.

“Is there something wrong?” Louis asks, his voice timid. There are not many people Louis’s intimated by, but SSA Hale is at the top of his list.

Hale glances between Harry and Louis, raising an eyebrow. “Well, Harry has brought it to my attention that the anger management classes are interfering with his home life,” He starts. Louis looks over at Harry, who’s still hanging his head.

Of course, the classes are interfering with his home life. That’s the whole point of anger management classes. Louis shakes his head, trying his best to not roll his eyes. He’s so sick of Harry sucking up to SSA Hale, getting out of anything and everything.

Sure, Louis doesn’t really care if Harry attends the classes or not. But it’s the principle behind it. Harry never has to do anything he doesn’t want to, because he always finds a way to get out of it.

“Harry, is there something you want to say to Louis?” SSA Hale asks.

Harry takes a deep breath, wincing when he tears a piece of his cuticle off of his finger. The finger starts to bleed, so Harry quickly pinches the finger, hoping to stop the bleeding.

He hates this.

This isn’t what he wanted when he confronted SSA Hale about the classes. He hoped when he told SSA Hale that he couldn’t attend the classes while taking care of Emmy, he’d just tell him he didn’t have to do them anymore.

Harry lifts his head, turning to face Louis. “Uh, I have a sister,” He starts, immediately wanting to recoil back to his desk.

Louis raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. He doesn’t understand why Harry’s telling him this or what it has to do with him taking the classes. “Okay… I have 5 sisters,” Louis says, still not sure where this is going.

Harry sighs, already annoyed with this. He just wants to go home, he doesn’t want to do this. The thought of Louis knowing this about him makes his skin crawl. The less people know, the better.

“That’s not… The point,” Harry grumbles, keeping his voice low. He looks over at SSA Hale for help, but he’s met with a disapproving head shake.

Harry looks back at Louis, who’s still staring at him with that ridiculous look on his face. “My sister is sick.” Harry says, his mind going to his little sister. He thinks about her taking her breathing treatments, struggling to breathe from coughing so hard. He thinks about her laying in bed, which is still quite new for them.

Up until a couple of months ago, she wasn’t completely bedridden. She was still able to get out and have fun, as long as she continued her breathing treatments. It only got bad when the doctors told her there was nothing else they could do.

She’s too exhausted from coughing and struggling to breathe to get out of bed and she’s too depressed to eat, no matter how hard Harry tries.

“She’s really sick, actually,” Harry finishes.

Louis keeps his eyes on Harry, his heart sinking to his stomach.

He had no idea that Harry had a sister, much less a sister who’s sick.

“And I have to take care of her. Which is really hard to do when I work and have to attend the classes,” Harry continues.

Louis slowly swallows the lump in his throat.

That must be what Harry’s doing when he answers the phone or leaves work early.

He’s taking care of his sick sister.

Louis thinks back to all the times he’s sent Harry a disgusted look when he ditches a meeting or leaves him hanging.

Jesus Christ.

Louis is horrible.

Louis’s head snaps over to SSA Hale. “He doesn’t have to take the classes, it’s fine, I’m not scared of him anymore,” Louis pleads, his words rushing to get out.

He feels horrible for everything he’s said to Harry, everything he’s done…

SSA Hale shakes his head, sighing. “I’m afraid the decision isn’t entirely up to you, Louis. Director Wray has seen certain things in his file that warrant anger management classes. He won’t let Harry out of the classes, I’ve tried.”

Louis’s mouth parts, his head turning to look at Harry. He’s picking at his nails again, a spot of blood pooling on his pants.

“I just need someone to be there with her while I’m in class. I’ve got in handled during the day, but I can’t leave during the classes,” Harry says, his voice quickly fading.

He hates asking for help.

Especially from his mortal enemy.

But really, who else was he supposed to turn to? Harry barely knows anything about Niall, he’s not sure he trusts him to take care of his sister. Harry thinks he heard Zayn talking about a girlfriend, so he doesn’t want him to spend his time taking care of Emmy.

Liam was Harry’s first choice, considering he already knows about Emmy and knows where Harry lives, but Liam couldn’t do it. He said something about using his time after work to teach computer skills to children, but Harry honestly stopped listening after he said no.

So, that left Louis. And really, after thinking about it, Harry decided it was the perfect match. He’s the one that got Harry into this, he should be the one to take care of Emmy. Harry loves his little sister, but he knows how she can be.

What better way to annoy your mortal enemy than to make them take care of your sick family member?

Louis stares at Harry, his eyes wide. He can’t seriously be asking him to take care of his sister, can he?

“You want me to take care of your sister?” Louis asks, dumbfounded. He knows he heard Harry right, but he has to be sure.

Harry rolls his eyes, huffing. It’s not enough for Louis to watch Harry ask for help once? He has to watch it twice?

“Yes. I...” Harry starts, his eyes trailing to his lap.

“Need help,” He finishes.

Louis shuts his mouth, watching Harry. He isn’t opposed to taking care of Harry’s sister... But he didn’t expect this. He never expected this.

“The classes start today. I have to go for two weeks. I-I’ll pay, if you want me to,” Harry offers. He can’t afford to pay Louis, but he at least wants to offer.

He’s just hoping Louis’s a kind enough person to deny the offer.

Louis continues staring at Harry, searching for the words to say. He’s never even met his sister, now he’s supposed to take care of her? For two weeks? Alone?

She’s sick, what if something goes horribly wrong under Louis’s supervision?

But what choice does he have? He’s the one that got Harry into this mess, he should be the one to help him out of it.

He’ll just have to deal with the uncomfortableness of it all later.

“No, you’re not going to pay me. I’ll take care of her,” Louis says, his voice quiet. How hard can it be? Cystic fibrosis patients can still do all of the things healthy people can do, maybe this won’t be as bad as Louis thinks it’ll be.

Harry’s head shoots up, a small smile forming on his face. He hadn’t expected Louis to say yes, especially not after everything they’ve been through. He isn’t keen on letting Louis into his life, but he’ll do anything for his sister.

Even if it means letting his mortal enemy close to his family.

Harry catches himself smiling, pulling the corners of his mouth down. He clears his throat, keeping his eyes on Louis. “I’ll give you my address, Emmy will tell you what she needs you to do. Don’t fuck it up,” Harry warns, standing up.

Louis stands up, slipping his hands in his pockets. Surely it can’t be as simple as that. There has to be certain rules Louis has to follow... Or things he has to be careful about.

He doesn’t want to do anything wrong, but Harry isn’t exactly great at giving directions.

“What should I do if there’s an emergency?” Louis asks.

Harry gives him an uneasy glance, shifting on his feet. He doesn’t even want to think about emergencies, but Louis has a point. Emergencies can happen at any time, to anyone. It’s better that they’re both prepared.

“Give me your phone,” Harry says, holding out his hand.

Louis glances down at Harry’s palm, his memory suddenly going back to Friday. That same palm had been pressed against Louis’s waist, squeezing and pinching as if it couldn’t get enough of him.

Louis finds himself wishing it would happen again. He didn’t get enough, he wanted more.

He needs more.

But he can’t, he shouldn’t.

“You want me to give you my phone if there’s an emergency?” Louis asks, his brain scrambled from the previous thoughts.

Harry rolls his eyes, huffing. “No, genius. Give me your phone so I can put my number in.”

Louis scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, his heart racing. He’s finally getting Harry’s number? Liam is the only one on the team that has his number.

Louis places his phone in Harry’s palm, watching as he types his number in. When he finally hands Louis the phone, he turns to leave the room.

He can’t be late to his first class.

Louis stares at the contact, his eyes landing on the ‘:)’ at the end of Harry’s name.

Well, that’s odd.

That smiley face was certainly not on Harry’s face when he was typing his number in.

Louis’s eyes flutter down to the address linked with the contact.

“Thank you for doing this, I know you probably wanted to say no.” SSA Hale says, bringing Louis back to reality.

“It’s not a problem, really. It’s the least I can do,” Louis says.

Louis heads down the stairs to say goodbye to his team, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come. He plugs Harry’s address in, humming along to the radio.

He isn’t sure what to expect. He’s seen plenty of movies and TV shows portraying people with CF, but he doesn’t think they’re entirely accurate. He wishes Harry would’ve talked to him some more about what to expect, but he reckons he didn’t have a choice.

After 10 more minutes of trying to prepare himself, he pulls into Harry’s driveway. Louis thinks back to the first time he saw Harry’s house, when he was snooping around and found out about his mother.

Poor Harry.

Louis steps out of his car, walking up to the doorway. He rubs his hands on his jeans, attempting to wipe some of the sweat off. He takes a deep breath, placing his hand on the knob. He slowly turns, exhaling his breath.

Louis’s eyebrows furrow when the knob stops turning, signaling that it’s locked.

Louis groans under his breath, tearing his hand away.

Of course, it’s locked. Leave it up to Harry to push Louis into something without even making sure he’s prepared.

Now, what is Louis supposed to do? He doesn’t want to have to call Harry already, he doesn’t want to look like he’s completely incapable of—

The door opens, sending a gush of air across Louis’s face. He sees a young girl standing in the doorway, staring back at him. Her curly brown hair is tied up in a bun, with the rest of the curls falling down around her face.

Surely this isn’t Harry’s sister.

She looks... Fine.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQOO2xGQ1Pc))

She doesn’t look sick, apart from the way her cheeks are sunken in and her sweater swallows her whole.

“Who the hell are you?” She asks, sending a judge mental glare Louis’s way.

Louis clears his throat, doing his best to put on a fake smile. “I’m Louis, I work with Harry,” He explains.

“I know who you are, but what are you doing here?” She asks, the annoyance clear in her voice.

Louis doesn’t even want to know how she knows who he is, but he reckons it’s from countless nights of Harry coming home and complaining about him.

Harry should know Louis does the same to his sisters.

“Right. Well, that’s not what you asked. You asked who I was,” Louis says, shifting in his stance. He isn’t above arguing with a sick person, he’d argue with a brick wall.

The girl stares at him for a little while longer, before moving to the side, silently giving Louis permission to enter the house. Louis scoots past her, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Where’s H?” Emmy asks, sitting down on the couch. Louis stands in his spot, glancing around the room.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? He’s at anger management classes,” Louis explains, watching as Emmy chuckles and shakes her head.

“Good, he needs it,” She says.

Louis stands awkwardly, not sure where to go from here.

Emmy stares at Louis, giving him a small smile. Louis’s eyes settle in on a new pocketbook, giving him new conversation material. “My mum had that same pocketbook. Saint Laurent, right?” He asks.

Emmy smiles, nodding. “Yeah, Harry bought it for me a couple of days ago,” She answers.

Silence falls over the room again, only subsiding when Emmy speaks up again.

“I know Harry asked you to take care of me, but I can take care of myself most of the time. He just wants you to keep me company,” Emmy explains.

Louis smiles a real smile this time, finding himself relaxing. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take care of her, but it’s relaxing to know he can just hang out.

Louis sits next to her on the couch, turning to face Emmy. “How did you know who I was?” He asks, his smile still lingering on his soft lips.

Emmy smirks, rolling her eyes. “Oh, god. He talks about you all the time. Louis did this, Louis did that, you’ll never guess what Louis did,”

Louis laughs, throwing his head back. It’s hard to believe that Harry talks to Emmy about him, but then again, he does the same thing to his sisters.

Louis calls them after work, ranting about his day and how Harry managed to make it complete hell.

Emmy laughs, her breath getting trapped in her throat. She goes into a coughing fit, immediately reaching for her inhaler. Panic spreads across her face as she struggles to reach. Louis jumps up, handing her the inhaler.

Louis places his hand on her shoulder, watching as she inhales the medication to regulate her breathing.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks, slowly caressing her shoulder.

Emmy nods, still inhaling the medication. When she’s done, she takes slow, deep breaths. “I didn’t do my breathing treatments today, it’s always worse when I don’t do them,” She explains.

Louis frowns softly, leaning against the couch. “Why didn’t you take your breathing treatments?” He asks.

Emmy stares ahead, sighing. “It’s pointless,” She mutters.

Louis doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her. He doesn’t want to push her, but he’s curious. Aren’t they supposed to help her? Why doesn’t she want to take them?

Emmy leans against the back of the couch, keeping her gaze on the TV in front of her. She clicks on Criminal Minds, making Louis smile. He’s never been a fan of the show, it’s all too cliche and impractical.

But his little sisters love it, so he’s familiar with the show. He wonders if Harry cuddles up to Emmy on the couch, spending his weekends binge-watching the show with her.

The thought makes Louis smile as he settles into the couch.


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was able to update a little earlier than I thought I was! I'm hoping to have one up Wednesday/Thursday, and then I'll have another chapter up Sunday/Monday! 
> 
> Please leave kudos/comments if you're enjoying this fic! I feel like it's not doing as well as my last one and that makes me sad because I really love this fic :( 
> 
> So please share this fic any way you can ! 
> 
> As always, feel free to dm me on twitter (only_theangel)

Chapter 8 

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1371643280501313537?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EGHpsX_Tcgk))

When Harry walks through the doors of his house, the last thing he expects to see is Emmy asleep with her head on Louis’s shoulder, both of them curled under the blanket, and Louis’s fingernails each painted a different color.

After the awkward introduction, Emmy decided she quite liked Louis and wanted him around for a while. They fell asleep together drooling over Spencer Reid and complaining about Harry’s permanent bad mood.

Harry gently places his keys on the end table, keeping his eyes on the pair. He hasn’t seen Emmy so relaxed in a long time. Normally, she can’t sleep at night because of her coughing. Harry’s tried to get her to take sleeping medications, but she claims she doesn’t want to be on any more meds than she already is.

Louis looks tiny on the couch, covered up with Harry’s favorite blanket and his lips slightly parted. It’s such a contrast to how Harry usually sees him, which is angry and defensive. Harry walks over to the couch, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to Emmy’s head.

His anxiety was at an all-time high all throughout class tonight. This is the first time since Emmy was 13-years-old that someone besides Harry has taken care of her. He can tell by the inhaler and breathing treatments on the table that Louis somehow talked Emmy into taking her treatments.

Harry steps back and ponders to himself, his eyes flickering between Emmy and Louis. He doesn’t want to wake Emmy up, she’ll have such a hard time falling asleep again. She looks so peaceful, Harry can’t bring himself to make her go to bed.

But if he wakes Louis up, he’ll wake Emmy up.

Harry sighs to himself, walking over to the light-switch. He turns the light off, traipsing back to his room. There’s nothing wrong with Louis sleeping over, it doesn’t mean anything. It just means that Harry is a good brother, that’s all.

Harry strips off his clothes, leaving him only in his black briefs. He settles in his bed, pulling his phone out and setting an alarm for several hours out.

He closes his eyes, feeling as his muscles sink into the mattress. He feels all the stress from today melt away as he drifts off to sleep.

-

The first thing Louis hears is the door shutting.

The next thing he hears is soft panting.

Louis slowly opens his eyes, blinking back to life.

He looks around the room, not recognizing where he is. He’s certainly not at his house. Louis looks around, searching for Emmy.

She must’ve gone to bed.

Louis’s eyes focus on a figure in the doorway, causing his hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He instinctively reaches for his right hip, only to realize he left his gun in the car before he came inside.

So, he does what any sane person would do.

He confronts the mystery person.

“Who the hell are you?” He asks, his voice gravely from sleep.

Harry turns around, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. His beanie is low on his forehead, the curls sticking out from underneath. He’s sweating in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, knowing he’ll have to shower before going to bed.

Harry’s eyes fall onto Louis, taking in the way his hair is ruffled from sleep.

“What?” Harry asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Louis relaxes once he realizes it’s Harry, but that doesn’t ease his confusion. Is Harry just now getting back from his classes?

Louis glances over at the clock on the wall, noting that it’s nearly 3 in the morning.

“Where have you been?” He asks, sitting up on the couch. He pulls the blanket closer to him, wrapping himself up.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCT_lgJ5eq8))

Harry smirks, running his thumb under the strap of his duffel bag. “Didn’t realize you were waiting up f’me, darling,” He teases, making Louis roll his eyes.

“Haha, very funny. I wasn’t… Waiting for you. You woke me up,” Louis says.

Harry decides to keep his game going, so he keeps the same, stupid smirk on his face. “You’re a clingy one, aren’t you? You hump a guy’s leg and you start thinking you can spend the night,”

Louis’s eyes widen, his cheeks heating up. This is the first time since it happened that they’ve actually talked about it. Harry’s language surrounding the situation is so crude, yet so casual.

Louis rolls his eyes, deciding to give up. It's not any of his business anyway, where Harry was. He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home, in bed.

Harry’s eyes flutter to his bedroom, reminding him of the weight on his shoulder. He shifts the bag to his other shoulder, dropping his smirk. “I was at a friend’s house,” He answers.

Louis stays silent, except for the humming of disbelief. After a few beats of silence, Louis opens his mouth. “You take a duffel bag to all of your friends’ houses?” He asks.

Maybe it’s the FBI agent in him, or maybe it’s slight jealousy at the thought of Harry having actual friends while he’s so distant from the people he’s worked with for two years, but Louis can’t stop himself from asking questions.

“Some of them, yes,”

Louis raises an eyebrow, peering over the top of the duffel bag from his position. It’s zipped closed, but Louis still tries his best to figure out what it contains.

“Sex toys,” Harry deadpans.

Louis chokes on air, his eyes widening once again. “P-Pardon?”

Harry smirks again, enjoying how flustered Louis is. Has the boy never had any experience with sex toys?

“It’s that kind of friend, genius. My bag is full of dildos, handcuffs, ball-gags, lube, collars, leashes, sw—“

Louis zones out while Harry continues listing everything in the bag. He has to be lying, that can’t all be in his bag.

Harry senses Louis’s apprehension, spurring him on. “I can show you, if you want,”

“No. No, do not show me. I don’t need to know what things Harry Styles likes in bed,” Louis interrupts him, shaking his head.

“You don’t? You seemed pretty eager Friday,” Harry says.

Louis groans, throwing the blanket off of his lap. He stands up, picking up his phone and his keys. He can’t stand any more of this, he shouldn’t even be here. He has to be up in a couple of hours, he can’t keep arguing with Harry.

He pushes his way past Harry, shaking his head the whole time. Harry is so arrogant, he thinks everyone is obsessed with him. Well, Louis’s not. He had one moment of weakness and it’ll never, ever happen aga—

Louis’s thoughts are cut off by Harry’s lips pressing onto his, his tongue licking its way into Louis’s mouth.

Louis is pushed against the wall, his phone and keys falling to the floor. His lips move against Harry’s, too absorbed in the kiss to think about anything.

Harry presses his hips against Louis’s, dropping the bag from his shoulder. He didn’t plan on this, but he just had to have Louis again.

Harry feels so bad, he just needs to feel good.

And Louis makes him feel good.

Harry rolls his hips, earning a quiet moan from Louis. Harry gently bites Louis’s lip, his hands roaming his body once again. It’s all he’s been able to think about for days, he finally has it again.

Louis pulls away from Harry, sinking deeper into the wall behind him. This can’t happen, it never should’ve happened the first time.

They’re supposed to hate each other, they’re not supposed to do… This!

“What do you think you’re doing?” Louis asks, his voice breathy. His chest is heaving with every passing moment, his eyes locked onto Harry’s. Harry’s curls are falling out of his beanie, his cheeks red from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline and feelings.

“Need you,” Harry mutters, leaning down to dip his head down to Louis’s collarbone. He pushes away Louis’s shirt, peppering kisses from his collarbone to the top of his chest.

Louis immediately closes his eyes, trying to ignore the way his cock is throbbing against his jeans. He never thought hearing Harry say that would affect him as much as it did, but he has to say focused.

He can’t give in.

Harry teased him, it’s his turn to tease Harry.

“Oh, yeah? And what makes you think you’re gonna get me?” Louis asks, opening his eyes.

Harry chuckles against his skin, another smirk plastered on his face. “I get whatever I want, I’m Harry Styles,” He mutters, sucking a deep purple hickey onto Louis’s skin. Louis hisses through gritted teeth, his mind flashing back to the last time Harry left a hickey on him.

It’s still there, actually, despite Louis’s many methods and tricks of rubbing ice and spoons on his neck. He hates the thought of being marked by Harry, he despises it.

But right now, he wants more.

Whatever plan Louis thought he was going to put into motion has flown out the window. He can’t focus on anything except the way Harry’s lips feel on his skin, the way his body is responding to every simple thing Harry does.

Harry pulls back, his eyelids fluttering down to Louis’s pants. It’s obvious he likes this, Harry knows he can’t get enough. He lifts his eyes back to Louis’s, his smirk still prominent.

“You want this, yeah?” He asks.

Louis swallows, somehow trying to sink further into the wall. He isn’t sure what ‘this’ is, but he thinks he wants it. All he knows is he doesn’t want Harry to stop, ever. He wants to feel this way forever.

“Y-yes,” Louis breathes out, nodding his head eagerly.

Harry reattaches his lips to Louis’s, his nose bumping Louis’s. Harry’s massive hands go to the front of Louis’s pants, cupping the bulge that’s forming under the fabric. Harry gently squeezes, earning a soft moan from Louis.

It’s enough to make Harry pull away, not wanting to muffle those pretty sounds anymore. “You know how hard it is to see you walking around all day? You’re constantly talking shit, you’re constantly driving me crazy, you know that?” He asks, his voice low.

Louis closes his eyes again, his hips involuntary thrusting into Harry’s hands, his head rolling back against the wall. He hadn’t known it at all, really. He just assumed Harry never really paid any attention to him.

“‘M sorry,” Louis offers, writhing in Harry’s grasp. He’s not even sure he knows what he’s apologizing for, he’ll say whatever Harry wants him to say right now.

“No, don’t apologize, baby, I like it,” Harry says. He almost freezes in his spot when he realizes just how easily the pet name rolls off his tongue, when he realizes he wouldn’t have a problem calling Louis that all the time.

Harry very swiftly flips Louis over so his cheek is pressed against the wall, Harry’s cock pressed against Louis’s ass. Harry leans in, his mouth next to Louis’s ear.

“You know how crazy you drive me? Every time you make a comment or send me a wrong look, I just want to bend you over your little desk, just want to fuck you until you can’t say anything other than ‘Daddy, please keep going,’, want to make you go dumb, baby,” Harry mutters, barely making it through the sentence without moaning.

He can feel Louis pushing back, causing the tip of Harry’s cock to leak out onto his thin sweatpants.

Louis keeps his cheek pressed against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He slowly slides his hand down to the front of his pants again, replacing Harry’s hand. “P-Please just do something,” Louis mutters, barely recognizing his own voice. It’s so whiney and needy, it’s almost embarrassing.

Harry places one last kiss on Louis’s neck, his hands sliding to the top of his jeans.

Before his hands find Louis’s buttons, he pauses.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbMwTqkKSps))

Should he be doing this? This is wrong, he has to stop. What about all of the things he said before? He can’t do this, especially not with Louis.

He can’t use him, he can’t get any closer than he already is.

“Harry, please,” Louis whines, pushing his ass further back into the crotch of Harry’s sweats.

Harry pulls his hands away, trying to catch his breath. “You should go,” Harry whispers.

Louis turns around, his eyebrows furrowed. Did he hear Harry right? Is he seriously doing this again?

“What?” Louis asks, his voice high.

Harry runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes on the wall behind Louis. “You need to go home, I don’t want you to stay,” Harry says.

He feels horrible, this never should’ve happened. This is exactly why Harry never gets close to anyone. He always ends up hurting them.

Without any more hesitation, Louis picks up his keys and phone, shoving them deep inside his pockets. He decides right then and there that he’s done with Harry. He’s done playing his little back and forth game, he’s done letting him play with his feelings.

He’ll just go back to permanently hating him, like he should’ve been doing all along. He should’ve never felt bad for Harry, he clearly brings it on himself. 

Harry watches Louis as he walks out to his car, not even bothering to look back.

-

“Okay, team, looks like there was another break-in last night,” SSA Hale announces, nodding toward Liam. Liam shows the pictures on the projected screen, staying silent as SSA Hale explains.

“This one was further away, about 30 miles from the last victims’,” He says, turning to face the table.

“Was there a note this time?” Niall asks, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“Yes, the local PD found the note right where the others were before. It looks like he stuck to the basics this time, only grabbing jewelry and electronics,”

“What time did it happen?” Louis asks, leaning his elbows on the table. After Louis went home last night, he decided he wasn’t going to talk to Harry anymore, he was only going to focus on the case.

He doesn’t have time to be worried about what’s going on with Harry.

“Sometime between 1-2. The son said he woke up shortly after 2 and that’s when he realized what had happened,” SSA Hale says.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, turning his head to look at Harry. Harry isn’t looking back, his attention is focused on SSA Hale.

Louis shifts in his seat, his eyes trained on Harry. He came in last night at 3, with a duffel bag. Now that Louis’s thinking about it, it does seem a little suspicious.

But Harry couldn’t have, right?

He’s an FBI agent, he’s not a criminal.

“Go ahead and grab your bags, we’re going to be staying at a hotel near the house. Zayn, Liam, you’re sharing a room. Louis, Harry, I expect both of you to be on your best behavior,” He says, pointing a finger at both of them.

Harry groans, throwing his head back. How is he supposed to share a room with Louis for a whole night?

He hates leaving Emmy alone, but he has no choice. They’ve had to do this quite often over 2 years, but it doesn’t get any easier. He’ll have to call her before he leaves to make sure she’ll be alright.

“And Niall, that leaves you with me,” SSA Hale says.

Niall frowns, pouting. “Why do I get put with you? That’s like sitting with your teacher on the bus,” He whines.

SSA Hale frowns, clearly unamused. “Everyone in the car in 5,”

As soon as the team heads their separate ways to get their bags, Louis makes his way over to Harry’s desk, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Where were you last night?” Louis asks.

Harry raises an eyebrow, picking his bag up. “I was at home, with you. You’ve even got the hickey to prove it,” Harry says, a smirk slowly spreading over his face.

Louis rolls his eyes, pursing his lips. “No, before that,”

“I told you, I was with a friend,” Harry says, walking past Louis. Louis follows him, struggling to keep up with his broad strides.

“You don’t think that’s a little suspicious? You come home at 3 in the morning,” Louis starts, shaking his head at how easily the word ‘home’ slipped out. He’s only spent half a night at Harry’s house and somehow it felt like home. “And you’re carrying a duffel bag when there just so happens to be another break-in,”

Harry pushes through the doors, squinting his eyes when the sun glares down on him. “Come on, Lou, I’m an FBI agent. What would I get out of breaking into houses?” He asks. He hears footsteps behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder.

Liam is following closely behind, his eyebrows furrowed. Harry swallows, turning his attention in front of him again.

“I don’t know, what does anyone get out of breaking into houses? They get money, they get excitement, revenge,” Louis says.

Harry opens the car door, slinging his bag in the back seat. He watches as Louis does the same, climbing into the passenger seat. “Well, I don’t need any of those things,” Harry says, Louis cutting him off with the slam of a door.

Harry sighs, turning back to face Liam. “Aren’t you supposed to ride with Zayn?” He asks.

Liam frowns, shifting his weight between his feet. “Why was he at your house last night?” He asks.

Harry tightens his grip on the door handle, breaking eye contact. “He was watching Emmy,” He mutters.

“Don’t let him fuck this up,” Liam warns, backing away. He turns around, walking quickly to Zayn’s car.

Louis watches the interaction, his eyes settling on Harry. He’s wrong, he has to be. After all, what Harry said was true. He doesn’t need money, revenge, or excitement. Just because Harry isn’t the sweetest guy in the world doesn’t mean he’s a criminal.

Louis’s wrong, he has to be.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be my last update until Sunday! Let me know what you think :)

Chapter 9 

([x](https://twitter.com/only_theangel/status/1372648134258483201?s=20))

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cElT_UU-lbU))

Are we playing the silent game?” Harry asks, placing his bag on the bed. It’s been a long day of questioning the victims and analyzing the note. The team has returned to their rooms to settle in for the night.

Louis rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. His white t-shirt is tight across his chest, he’s ready to get out of it. He isn’t sure how he’s going to spend an entire night with Harry, it’s only been 5 minutes and he’s already unbearable.

He hasn’t said a word to Harry since they got in the car together. Something is off with him. Louis doesn’t know what it is, but he knows something is going on.

And whatever Liam said to Harry outside of the car must’ve shaken him up because Harry didn’t even bother teasing Louis about last night.

“No, I’m just not particularly thrilled that I have to spend the night with you,” Louis mutters, watching as Harry chuckles.

“Would you have preferred to spend the night with SSA Hale?”

“No, but you would’ve. He might even be a little extra lenient on you,” Louis snaps.

Harry inhales a slow breath, dropping his eyes to his bag. He pulls out his phone charger, plugging it into the wall. “What did I tell you about joking about that?” Harry asks, his voice low.

He hates that Louis thinks he’s fucking SSA Hale. He’s not, by the way.

Louis sighs, shaking his head. “Whatever. I’m going downstairs to drink with Liam and Zayn, so don’t fall asleep until I get back. They only gave us one key,” Louis says, shoving his phone in his pocket.

They’ve had a hard day today, and they’ll have an even harder one tomorrow. This is just what the boys need, a night of light drinking.

And honestly, Louis just wants to get away from Harry.

“And you didn’t think to invite me?” Harry asks, feigning sadness.

“Oh, please, you’ve made it very clear you don’t have any desire to hang out with us,” Louis says, turning to walk out.

Harry quickly grabs his phone, following behind. It’s not that he necessarily wants to hang out with Louis, but he just wants to monitor things. He’s not sure what Liam is planning to say to Louis or what Louis plans to say to Liam.

He has to keep things under control.

The two walk in silence to the hotel bar, watching as the two boys turn to wave them down. Louis takes his place next to Liam, distancing himself from Harry.

“Where’s Niall?” Louis asks, flagging the bartender down. He quickly orders a beer, not feeling up to anything fancy tonight. He has to take it easy, he can’t get too drunk.

He doesn’t trust himself drunk around Harry. He can barely control himself sober.

Liam smiles, taking a sip of his drink. “He texted earlier saying Hale wanted him to spend his night analyzing the letter,” He says.

Louis laughs, shaking his head.

Okay, he takes it back. He wouldn’t have rather stayed with SSA Hale. He’s glad he’s not working right now, he needed a break.

Poor Niall.

“Were you able to find anything online?” Louis asks, watching as Liam shakes his head.

“No, I never can. He’s got to be finding his victims somewhere, I just can’t figure out where,” Liam says, his voice quiet.

Louis stays silent, taking a sip of his drink. He’s never understood why Liam hasn’t been able to find anything in 2 years. He’s always been super effective in other cases. Louis has seen it, Liam once found an online presence within 30 seconds of opening a new case.

But then again, no one on the team seems to be doing their best on this case. Niall’s had trouble analyzing the letters. He’s mentioned before that the unsub changes his handwriting nearly every time he writes a letter, so it’s hard to get anything from the writing.

Zayn and Louis used to be the best profilers, but all they can tell you about the unsub is that it’s a male in his mid 20’s. They can infer that the unsub has a personal agenda for breaking into the houses, but they can’t tell you what that agenda is.

“So… You and Harry?” Liam asks, raising an eyebrow.

Louis swallows his drink down, turning his head to look at Liam. Harry and Zayn are immersed in their own conversation, neither one paying any attention to what’s going on on the other side of the bar.

“What about us?” Louis asks.

Liam smiles, tightening his grip on his glass. “Looks like you’re finally being a little nicer to him,”

Louis rolls his eyes, pulling his glass closer to the edge of the bar. “Right. That lasted for about 5 seconds,” He answers.

Liam laughs, shaking his head.

“Can I get you another drink?” The bartender asks, flashing her perfectly white teeth. She leans forward on the bar, her cleavage almost pouring out of her tank-top.

Louis can feel her eyes burning a hole through him.

Poor thing, she has no idea the last time Louis touched a woman was when he was in 6th grade and he ran off crying because she tried to kiss him.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” Louis says, his lips curling up into a smile. “Thanks,”

Louis looks over at the other side of the bar, seeing Harry on the phone. His eyebrows are furrowed, telling Louis that he’s angry about something.

“Emmy, no, I am not giving the phone to Louis,” Harry mutters, shaking his head.

He called to check on her, worrying about her being alone. The last thing he expected was for his little sister to ask to talk to Louis.

Emmy giggles on the other end of the phone, enraging Harry even more. “A-Are you _drunk_?”

Emmy snorts, hiccuping. “No, I am not,” Emmy starts, being interrupted by her own hiccup, “ _drunk_ , ‘m just tipsy,”

Harry clenches his fist at his side, trying to remind himself to take deep breaths. If Emmy drinks, it could affect her antibiotics or even cause liver damage. Harry tries not to be too strict on her, but she’s being reckless!

First, she refuses to do her breathing treatments. Then, she doesn’t tell him about a new medication and refuses to get involved in the trial. Now, she’s drinking?

“Do you want to die, Emmy? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t get your shit together,” Harry warns.

“No, Harry. I _want_ you to give the phone to Louis,” She says.

Harry rolls his eyes, quickly becoming frustrated with his little sister. He storms over to Louis’s side of the bar, shoving his phone up to his ear.

Louis’s eyes widen as he scrambles to hold the phone. “What—“

“She won’t stop asking me about you, she’s drunk,” Harry warns.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, clutching the phone to his ear.

Drunk?

After Louis hung out with her, he read up on Cystic Fibrosis. He remembers something about people with CF not drinking, but he can’t be sure. “Louuuuuuuuuu!!!” Emmy says, giggling.

Louis smiles, laughing under his breath. “Hello, Emmy,” He says.

“Is Harry being mean to you?” She asks. Louis’s eyes flutter over to Harry, who’s watching Louis’s every move. His brown curls are falling over his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed at the crease.

The sight of Harry brings back unwanted thoughts. And no, not just the unwanted thoughts of what Harry has in his pants, but the unwanted thoughts of what Harry’s doing during the night.

Louis slowly blinks back to reality, shifting in his place. “Uh, no, everything is fine,” Louis lies. Before Emmy can ask another question, Louis opens his mouth again. “Are you supposed to be drinking?”

Emmy groans on the other end of the phone, so loud that Harry can hear her. “Not you, too! I’m just trying to have fun,” She says.

Louis smiles softly, his memory immediately going to his younger siblings. He found out a long time ago that you have to pick your battles with them. You can’t be on them about everything, only the important stuff.

“Are you being safe?” Louis asks.

Harry raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yes, I didn’t drink much,”

“And you’ve got your inhaler close by?” Louis adds, meeting Harry’s eyes again.

“Mhm,” Emmy says.

Louis smiles. “Have fun, alright?”

“Have fun with Harry, make sure to tell him to get the stick out of his ass,” Emmy says, hanging up.

Louis immediately laughs, handing the phone back to Harry. Before Louis can laugh too long, he’s cut off with a death glare from Harry.

([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZfXLFe3WHac))

“What the hell was that?” Harry asks, his voice low.

Liam has moved to sit next to Zayn, leaving Harry and Louis alone. Louis shakes his head, taking another sip of his beer. “Oh, she just made a joke—“

“No, why do you think you have the authority to tell my sister that it’s alright if she can drink?” Harry asks, taking another step closer to Louis.

“I researched it a lot this morning, actually. As long as she’s got her inhaler close by, she’ll be fine,” Louis says, watching as Harry shakes his head.

Harry can’t believe this! Part of him wants to cry at the thought of Louis spending his morning researching Emmy’s disease, but the other part wants to scream at him. Louis has no idea what Harry’s been through, he has no idea how sick Emmy is.

“Here’s the thing, you’ve researched it for one day, I’ve lived with her for 20 years, she shouldn’t be drinking at all,” Harry says.

Louis sighs, finishing off his drink. “I helped raise my sisters, I know a little bit about teenagers, Harry,” He says.

Harry clenches his fist at his side, trying to focus on his breathing. Thankfully, he was able to miss today’s anger management class because of the case, but he knows his instructor will expect him to be working on his anger anyway.

“You’ve never raised a teenager with a chronic illness. Things are different, there are cer-“

Harry is interrupted when Niall comes trampling down the stairs, making everyone at the bar turn their heads. His hair is sticking up, his eyes are wide. He’s holding a piece of paper in his right hand, most likely the last note.

Niall makes his way to the bar, scooting between the boys. Liam furrows his eyebrows, looking up at Niall. “Thought you were trapped with Hale?”

Niall catches his breath, his chest heaving as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I am— I was! Until I found this,” He says, placing the note on the bar. It’s still in the plastic bag, protected from any contamination.

The boys all frantically search the note, looking for any signs of what’s caused Niall to essentially go insane.

“I don’t see anything,” Zayn says, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, I didn’t, either. Until I stared at the note for hours while Hale repeatedly watched Golden Girls and— Anyway, that’s not the point,” Niall says, tapping his fingers on the plastic bag.

The boys all lower their faces until they’re eye-level with the note. “Right here,” Niall says.

Harry is the first one to spot it.

Next, is Liam. He sits up, his eyes immediately going to Harry. His clenched jaw and tapping foot is enough to make Harry want to hide away.

“Wait, is that... Blood?” Louis asks, lifting his head to look at Niall.

Niall proudly nods, while Zayn lifts his head. “This is tiny, minuscule, even. How is this going to help us?”

Liam finally breaks eye contact with Harry, confusing his attention on Niall. “Even if we had more, we still wouldn’t be able to find him unless he’d been previously arrested,” He states.

“Yeah, and I thought we agreed he most likely hasn’t been arrested because of how careful he is,” Louis adds.

Niall rolls his eyes, sighing. “Yes, I know. Contrary to popular belief, I did graduate with a bachelor’s in Criminology,” He says.

“It means he’s getting careless,” Harry says, his voice quiet. Everyone’s head turns to him, a smile on Niall’s face.

“Bingo! 2 years ago, he’d never mess up like this. Maybe next time, he’ll leave a fingerprint, or even a shoe print,” Niall says.

Zayn darts his eyes between the team, his grip loosening on his drink. “Looks like we need to put our best foot forward right now, we might be able to catch the guy,” He says.

Niall tucks the plastic bag in his pocket, glancing over his shoulder. “I should get going, Hale will complain if I’m not back before the season finale comes on,” He mutters, shaking his head.

Louis smiles, chuckling under his breath. “Have fun with Hale, I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” He says, standing up from his stool. He looks over at Harry, holding his hand out.

“Key,” He says, wiggling his fingers.

Harry looks up at him, leaning his right side off of the chair. He pulls the key out of his pocket, placing it in Louis’s open hand. “I’ll be up in soon, don’t go to sleep,” He warns.

Louis groans, throwing his head back. Why can’t Harry go to the front desk and ask for an extra key? He just wants to go to sleep, he doesn’t want to have to wait up until Harry decides to come to the room.

“Fine,” He mumbles.

Once Louis is heading to the elevator, Harry turns to face Liam. Zayn’s stepped away to take a call, leaving just the two of them.

“What do you think about what Niall found?” Liam asks, his eyes staring straight ahead at the bar.

Harry rests his elbows against the cold bar, the loud music suddenly too loud for him to think properly. “I think… He made a mistake and didn’t realize it until it was too late,” Harry answers, turning to face Liam.

Liam chuckles dryly, still not turning to look at Harry. “I think he needs to be more careful,” He says, only now turning his head so he can see Harry.

Harry clenches his jaw, digging in his wallet to find a tip for the bartender. “Sometimes I think you forget that we’re supposed to catch this guy,” He mutters, standing up.

“Do we?”

Harry shakes his head, throwing the tip on the bar. He turns to walk toward the elevator, making his way up to the room. He knocks on the door, patiently waiting for Louis to open it.

He doesn’t know how he’s expected to keep it in his pants while he spends the night with Louis, but he’s just thankful they have two beds. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he had to spend a bed with him.

He can’t allow himself to get carried away anymore, it isn’t fair to either of them.

Louis opens the door, stepping to the side as Harry enters. Neither one says anything, allowing the silence to fill the room.

Louis watches as Harry sits on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

Louis stands awkwardly in the corner, not quite sure what to do. So, he does the only thing he can think of. “Emmy told me to tell you to get the stick out of your ass,” He says.

Harry furrows his eyebrows, lifting his head. “Wha— Why would you say that?” He asks.

Louis opens his mouth to respond, but Harry cuts him off. “Let’s not do this, alright?”

“Do what?” Louis asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“We’re not friends, we work together. Just because my sister has a weird obsession with you doesn’t mean I hate you any less than I did before,” Harry says, standing up. He walks over to his bag, digging through to grab his sweats.

Once he finds them, his hands wander to his pants, unbuttoning them.

Louis’s lips part, his eyebrows still furrowed. Hate? He can’t say he knew Harry felt that strongly about him. He knew Harry wasn’t a fan of him, but he had no idea he hated him.

“What did I ever do to you, huh?” Louis asks, struggling to form words as Harry pulls his pants down his legs. He kicks the pants away from his ankles, bending over the pull the sweats on.

Harry chuckles dryly, shaking his head. He pulls his shirt over his head, leaving his upper half completely bear. Louis allows his eyes to focus in on the tattoos, his eyes immediately being drawn to the butterfly in the center.

He hadn’t pictured Harry as a butterfly guy.

“You didn’t do anything, it’s just who you are that bothers me,” Harry answers, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m not the biggest fan of you, either, but I don’t make it my life mission to make your life living hell,” Louis responds, making his way to his own bed. He gets in bed, snuggling deep into the mattress.

Harry copies his movements, laying on his side to face Louis. Louis is laying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Just try not to give my sister advice that’ll get her killed, alright?”


End file.
